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A TUSCAN 
CHILDHOOD 



A TUSCAN 
CHILDHOOD 



BY 



LISI CIPRIANI 







"U ' ™ 



NEW YORK 

THE CENTURY CO. 

1907 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Cooles Received 

SEF 20 I90f 



class a ' xxc.,w>. 

COPY 



7 



^ 
&£ 



Copyright, 1907, by 
The Century Co. 



Published October, iqo 7 



THE OE VINME PRESS 



I DEDICATE THIS BOOK 
TO MY FATHER AND MY MOTHER 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

i The Notes 3 

ii Our English 17 

in How the Children Hallowed a 

Cemetery 29 

iv On Dolls 43 

v My Mother and Her Doll 59 

vi My Mother and Her Lamb 91 

vn On Discipline and its Results . . .113 
vin A Child's Point of View . . „ . .131 

ix Leaves in the Storm 145 

x Teresa and the Cat 171 

xi The Foundling 187 

xn Mama's Ravens 205 

xm My Popolo 227 

xiv Other Playmates . 247 

xv The End .265 



I 

THE NOTES 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 



THE NOTES 

WHEN I was still a wee child 
I began my first diary. The 
few pages of these diaries 
that have been preserved are valuable 
material to me now. I also started a 
family history, beginning with my own 
birth. This family history, which never 
covered more than three pages of large 
foolscap paper, gives the following items 
as I remember them not too far away 
from the time when the events actually 
took place. 

I first discuss the date of my birth : "Of 
course, I do not remember myself if the 
C3] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

date is exact, and as Papa and Mama do 
not agree on the subject, I shall never 
know if I was born fifteen minutes before 
or fifteen minutes after midnight — either 
on the fourth or on the fifth of July. As 
my birthday has always been celebrated 
on the fifth, I ought to stick to that. But, 
on the other hand, as I find out that I am 
in the habit of being late, I suppose the 
Lord told me to come fifteen minutes be- 
fore midnight, but I was late, and got there 
fifteen minutes after." 

This reference to one's birth is so clas- 
sically customary in English literature, 
that there seems no reason to omit it from 
my autobiography. 

The notes continue: "I was considered 
an uninteresting child. If I had been the 
only one, it might have been different, but 
I unfortunately was born in the middle of 
seven, and it is only the oldest and the 
youngest who count. Besides, they were 

C43 



THE NOTES 

all brighter than I was. If I had my 
choice, I should always take a place at the 
head or the tail of a large family. You 
always get the worst of it if you are in the 
middle. You have to give in to the older 
children because they are older, and you 
have to give in to the younger because 
they are so little" 

This is pathetic. I might have added 
that as the Bible says that the last 
shall be first, and the first shall be last, 
those "at the head and the tail" have some 
hope of relief, if their present situation is 
not satisfactory; but those who are in 
the middle have evidently no prospect of 
change and must bear their trials for- 
ever. 

The notes continue: "My first vivid 
recollection is of a sound whipping for 
having eaten sugar, or rather, to be exact, 
stolen sugar out of the sugar-basin, every 
evening when we came back from our 

C5] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

walk, profiting of the moment when every- 
body went to take off hats and jackets. I 
do not remember how my misdeed was 
discovered, but of nothing else have I been 
ashamed as of that." 

I make an unchanged literal quotation, 
and as this was written by a little Tuscan 
without view of publication, the English 
may be allowed to stand. 

"At that time we were only five chil- 
dren, and I can say that my memoirs begin 
before I was quite four. The first impor- 
tant event that took place at that time was 
the birth of my fourth brother. I remem- 
ber distinctly the arrival of the peasant 
woman who was to nurse him, and I also 
remember how one morning we were all 
called into Mama's bedroom. We were 
placed in a row according to height, and 
then a very tiny little thing was shown to 
us. The nurse made him smile by touch- 
ing his under lip with her little finger. We 

C6] 



THE NOTES 

all were allowed to look at him by turns, 
and were then marched out of the room, 
conscious that we were six instead of five." 
The birth of Baby (his real name was 
Caesar Livy, but he was called "Baby" to 
the end of his little life) was a subject of 
great interest to me. I remember also how 
unduly I profited by the event. This needs 
quite a lengthy explanation. Ritchie and 
I, who belonged to the nursery, had one 
rocking-horse in common — a big horse, 
but still we only used it one at a time. The 
rules and regulations of the household 
were explicit in every detail. We, "the 
little ones," had breakfast at eight. At 
half past eight breakfast was supposed to 
be finished, and at nine the carriage called 
to take us to the park, where we played 
till twelve o'clock, when the carriage 
would come to take us home again. From 
half past eight to nine was the time for the 
rocking-horse, and naturally this time 

[73 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

should have been shared equally between 
Ritchie and myself. 

Baby's birth made me see a way of en- 
joying the rocking-horse myself for the 
full half-hour. For almost two weeks I 
set Ritchie, who was a year younger than 
myself, watching at the door of my moth- 
er's bedroom in hopes of being the first to 
see a new baby; not Caesar Livy, but ac- 
tually a seventh addition to the family — 
probably a girl. 

Poor little Ritchie waited patiently day 
by day, refusing his turn on the rocking- 
horse. The explanation I would give him 
for the non-arrival of the new little baby 
was : "They probably could not find a wet- 
nurse; they surely will find one to-mor- 
row." And for two weeks I enjoyed the 
rocking-horse all to myself. 

But tricks never pay, and when Ann, 
our English nurse, found out how, to use 
an American expression, I had stuffed my 

can 



THE NOTES 

brother, I in turn had to give up the rock- 
ing-horse to him for many days. 

The notes continue to tell that for 
Ritchie and me "the children" were the 
oldest three in the family, and they were 
entirely separated from us, under the rule 
of the German governess. Alick, who 
came just before me, was allowed to spend 
his play and lunch hour with us. 
Promptly at twelve, when we had re- 
turned from our drive, Ritchie and I 
would present ourselves at the school- 
room door, and fearfully face the govern- 
ess with the question — "May Alick come 
to eat his panam}" Panam being a child- 
ishly Anglicized form of the Italian word 
for bread. 

It was not long after this that Ritchie, 
who was not yet four, got into trouble 
about his wife and his seven children. 
The catastrophe was quite unexpected. 
One day Ritchie and I were called in for 

[9] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

dessert after my father and mother had 
had their evening dinner. Some German 
friends had been dining with them, and 
while we were nibbling at a wee bit of an 
orange, the conversation drifted to the 
Siege of Paris, recalling its horrors. 

The talk was suddenly interrupted by a 
howl from Ritchie : 

"My wife and my seven children! My 
wife and my seven children!" 

"What wife and what seven children?" 
was the astonished question which met 
him on every side. 

"My wife and my seven children. They 
have probably died of hunger, too." 

With much difficulty my mother found 
out that Ritchie claimed to have a wife 
and seven children living at Paris. He 
minutely told their names, their ages, their 
appearance, and their dispositions. He 
had been eagerly listening to the account 
of the horrible famine during the siege, 



THE NOTES 

and nothing could convince him now that 
his family had not undergone these hard- 
ships. 

My mother, with one of her inspira- 
tions, finally satisfied him by having a 
plate filled with all kinds of good things to 
eat, and ordering the butler to take it at 
once to Paris to Master Ritchie's wife and 
seven children. The next step was to send 
for a physician to find out whether a baby 
could be insane. The physician fortu- 
nately decided that the boy's sanity need 
not be questioned. A closer investigation 
brought out the fact that Ann had amused 
the child by telling him imaginary tales 
about this wife and these seven children, 
and that Ritchie firmly believed that they 
really existed, nor could my mother's rea- 
soning shake his conviction in the least. 

The nurse was cautioned not to enter- 
tain him in such a way again, and we chil- 
dren were instructed never to mention a 

en] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

wife and seven children in Ritchie's pres- 
ence. For days afterward he wept in fear 
that his Parisian family had not had 
enough to eat, and for years we made it a 
point to whisper to each other, and not let 
Ritchie know what we were talking about, 
whenever we remembered the possibility 
of any one having a wife and seven chil- 
dren. 

I also remember that he had called his 
third boy Peter, and that this struck me as 
showing bad taste. I thought that Alfred, 
Arthur or Harold would be preferable. 

The only other incident the notes men- 
tion is my crime. 'Though now I am far 
from being passionate, I then did some- 
thing which must have given my parents 
a very bad idea of my future character. 
One day after dinner I was losing so much 
time in folding my napkin that somebody 
told Mathew to come and help me. I do 
not know whether his doing it in a bad 



THE NOTES 

manner made me angry, or whether my 
little dignity felt offended by the idea of 
help. When he came near me I jumped 
up on my chair, and picked up a knife 
from the table, menacing to use it if any 
one attempted to snatch the napkin from 
my hands. Of course, I was taken away, 
whipped and otherwise punished, and a 
big fuss was made over it. Many times 
afterward I have thought of it with a sort 
of horror, wondering if it were enough to 
send me to Hell. It certainly was a 
strange thing for me to do ; all the more as 
it is the only incident of hot temper that I 
remember. As a general thing I always 
did boil, and always do boil, inside." 

This ends my attempt to write a family 
history. 



nan 



II 

OUR ENGLISH 



II 

OUR ENGLISH 

MY mother was a woman with the- 
ories, and one of her theories 
was that English women make 
the best nurses in the world. In order to 
have us well-washed, well-fed, and other- 
wise well-groomed, she established an 
English nursery. 

From the hands of our Italian wet-nurse 
we passed into those of the English. Of 
our Italian nurse I shall speak again later. 

The English language was, therefore, 
practically our first tongue. We learned 
to read in English, and the Mother Goose 
rhymes were as familiar to us as they 
could be to any child born in the British 
Islands. Even our Italian names were 
Anglicized. 

civ: 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

We liked the English influence thor- 
oughly, while later we strenuously ob- 
jected to our German governesses and tu- 
tors. 

Our food was English. We had rare 
roast beef every single day, and a fondness 
for rare roast beef even now marks one 
distinct class of Italians. 

Our clothes were English. We had to 
wear sunbonnets, and our little dresses 
left our necks and arms bare. Even our 
socks and our low shoes were distinctly 
English. All these things in those days 
were uncommon, but now they have been 
generally adopted by Italian parents. 

As soon as we were old enough we had 
to take English long walks. Two hours 
every day we tramped along, one, by turn 
the victim, walking with the governess, 
while the others walked, paired off, in 
front. If the governess took five of us out 
walking, one of us would walk with her, 

CIS] 



OUR ENGLISH 

while the other four, the envied ones, could 
walk ahead two by two, talking to each 
other about anything they liked — though 
the governess was German, when out 
walking we were always allowed to speak 
English. My mother never allowed us to 
speak Italian on the street. I may add 
that the English long walks had to be kept 
up by the German governesses. 

The English influence has been a last- 
ing one in our lives. Though it came 
early, and in number of years was not as 
long as that of our German instructors, it 
contributed far more to the molding of our 
characters, to a certain attitude of life, and 
to our likes and dislikes of a good many 
things. 

The English language passed through 
us corrupted to the Italian maids. There 
were some words absolutely peculiar to 
our household. One was a mixture of the 
word Bismarck, which the popular mind 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

evidently connected with the German gov- 
erness, and the expression bad mark, which 
was introduced by the English nurse. 
Anyway, the Italian maids would, if we 
were naughty, give us a kind warning: 
"Look out, look out! Or they '11 give you 
a bismacche" ; bismacche in their minds 
standing for a reprimand and a whipping. 
By a curious coincidence, four of us 
had the same wet-nurse. She was a 
woman of remarkable character, and no 
English nurse, however excellent, could 
have done better by us than she did. She 
certainly cooperated bravely in teaching 
us to speak the truth, and not to be afraid 
of a whipping once we had brought it 
upon us. Yet, though to all appearances 
she submitted to the strictness of our for- 
eign education, she suffered much to see 
it enforced. I have no doubt she would 
willingly have taken all whippings to her- 
self if such a thing had been permissible. 
[20] 



OUR ENGLISH 

I must say, however, that I remember no 
friction between Italian and English in the 
household, while there always was trouble 
between the Italians and the Germans. 

Our own English, though I suppose very 
correct for foreigners, was occasionally 
picturesque, and the picturesqueness was 
due to our Italian origin. I remember that 
Baby, when he was a little older, one day 
rushed up to my mother, exclaiming: 
"Mama, Mama! The fire has run away," 
meaning that it had gone out. 

I do not remember any confusion of 
languages, though certain double mean- 
ings in English troubled me. One word, 
which it took me a long time to under- 
stand, was the word pale. I had a pail 
and a spade to play with in the sand on 
the seashore, and I distinctly remember 
my amazement at hearing my mother ask- 
ing a friend of hers: "Don't you think the 
child looks pale to-day?" 

C213 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

It was a well-enforced rule with us that 
we should ask no questions, and I never 
asked what I had to do with the pail. 

When I was still a very young child, 
and I had my first German governess, I 
confused certain words that sounded alike 
in both languages. My mother having 
once promised to take us to a catacomb at 
Leghorn, where some bones, said to have 
belonged to early Christians, had just been 
discovered, I rushed up to my governess 
saying in German that Mama was going to 
take us to see die Bohnen der Todten. 
The poor woman was puzzled to know 
what we were going to do with the beans 
of the dead. She had not been in Italy 
long, and was evidently still much per- 
plexed at Italian manners and customs. 

Another time the same governess asked 
me to get her ein Besen. I rushed out of 
the room, and soon returned with the 
nurse bringing not a broom, but a basin. 

C22H 



OUR ENGLISH 

A favorite story of our nursery days we 
used to illustrate dramatically: "An Eng- 
lishman made a German a present. The 
German expressed his thanks by saying 
'Danke sehr! The Englishman, who un- 
derstood it to mean Donkey, sir, and felt 
duly offended, challenged the German to 
a duel, and killed him." Ritchie and I 
acted this out many times, though some- 
times we had to give up playing this game, 
because neither of us would consent to be 
the German. Our sympathies were al- 
ways with the English. 

It is remarkable, however, that learning 
several languages, for we spoke four be- 
fore we were seven, we should never con- 
fuse them. The examples I give above are 
exceptions to the rule. I remember very, 
very few cases in which there was any 
confusion of languages at all, though I do 
remember learning the full meaning of 
single words in my own language, Italian, 
[23] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

long after I had heard these words used. 
If we had been allowed to freely ask ques- 
tions, even this difficulty would have been 
avoided. 

It is very interesting, too, that when 
children are taught English and another 
foreign language, like German, besides, 
they invariably prefer the English lan- 
guage to any other. This is hard to ex- 
plain. It is not hard to explain, however, 
that they should like their English nurses. 
I myself have the kindest recollections of, 
and the kindest esteem for, those I can 
remember. 

I also look upon this English influence 
in our childhood as a most desirable one. 
My first book was Mrs. Edgeworth's 
"Frank," and I believe that it would be 
worse for me if I had not begun life on 
"When Frank was five years old his 
mother gave him a book." 

I have always kept a fondness and an 
C24] 



OUR ENGLISH 

understanding for Maria Edgeworth, 
which, to my regret, most English-speak- 
ing people nowadays do not share. Even 
to-day I can read her children's stories 
and her novels with keen pleasure, and 
feel like valiantly breaking a lance in her 
defense when any one compares her dis- 
paragingly to Jane Austen. 

My admiration for Wordsworth proved 
less lasting. One of the first poems I re- 
member learning is "We are Seven." I 
delighted in that, and insisted upon learn- 
ing— 

The dew was falling fast, 
The stars began to blink, 
I heard a voice that said 
Drink, pretty creature, drink. 

My fondness for Wordsworth exhausted 

itself with those two poems. I never have 

succeeded in reading him with pleasure 

since, though the Lord knows that I have 

[25] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

tried hard enough to develop a due appre- 
ciation. 

Italian children nowadays are generally 
taught German instead of English, be- 
cause good English nurses and good Eng- 
lish governesses are so hard to get. I 
think it fortunate for us that the English 
care came first, for the Germans instruct, 
but the English educate. 



C26] 



Ill 

HOW THE CHILDREN HALLOWED A 
CEMETERY 



Ill 



HOW THE CHILDREN HALLOWED A 
CEMETERY 

OUR fondness for our living pets 
was great, but it was equaled 
by the interest we took in giv- 
ing our special favorites honorable burial. 
The sparrow Ritchie stepped on and killed 
received special funeral honors, not be- 
cause particularly worthy of it, but be- 
cause I had to be comforted in my unre- 
strained sorrow. I drenched half a dozen 
handkerchiefs with my tears. 

We were spending the winter at the 
Villa of Pisa. Imagine a pretty villa built 
on the banks of the Arno and facing the 
south. Before it were two magnolia trees, 
as tall as the house itself, that in summer 
were full of large white blossoms, yet even 
in winter looked fresh and strong, with 

C293 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

shining dark green leaves; then, several 
tea-rose trees, from nine to twelve feet 
high, that all winter long were laden with 
blossoms. 

The garden ran along the famous pub- 
lic drive, the Piagge, and was inclosed by 
iron railings that allowed any passer-by to 
look in. Foreigners particularly would 
stop to admire the wonderful bloom of 
these trees. Frequently we were allowed 
to give total strangers, if they were Eng- 
lish or German, large bunches of roses, 
handing them through the railing. 

Out of the chinks on the sidewalk be- 
fore the house grew big bunches of 
mignonette, while the beds of violets all 
along the railing scented the air. 

This was our front garden, where we 
had to stay most of the time, because it 
was sunny, but we had to be careful, and 
this was, I suppose, the prime reason why 
none of us cared for the Villa of Pisa, 
C30] 



IN A CEMETERY 

while we all adored the Villa of Leghorn, 
where only a small section of the garden 
was not ours to do as we liked. 

The back garden, to the north side of 
the house, was chilly and gloomy. Its 
principal charm was a row of beautiful 
camellia trees, but we only cared for a 
large cypress tree, under which we had 
been allowed to make a cemetery. 

Here cats, dogs and birds were buried, 
and small marble slabs gave their name 
and the date of their death. Pisa is near 
Carrara, and marble is no great luxury. I 
must also conscientiously state that the 
epitaphs were put on in paint or ink, and 
that they generally lasted only a short 
while. When the rain had washed the 
marble clean, it was often used over again. 
The cemetery, moreover, was not more 
than two or three square yards. This so 
that nobody may receive an erroneous im- 
pression of magnificence. 

[31: 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

The tragedy of the sparrow was a sim- 
ple one. I was sitting on the door-step 
watching my little sparrow hop around. 
Ritchie, a chubby little fellow, came run- 
ning along, and stepped upon my sparrow. 
He killed it. I howled inconsolably, until 
"the children," who were just through 
their lessons, volunteered not only a mag- 
nificent funeral, but a slab which should 
tell of Ritchie's crime forever. 

I do not know who composed the epi- 
taph, but I remember it distinctly, and 
shall remember it, I think, till my dying 
day. It said: 

"Riccino, 
Assassino, 
Ammazzo 
L'uccellino." 

Englished: "Little Ritchie, assassin, 
killed the little bird." 

I cannot remember if Ritchie took the 
matter to heart. 

C32] 



IN A CEMETERY 

The death of the sparrow led to some- 
what unusual complications; at least, I 
have never heard of any other children 
getting into trouble in the same way. 

That Pisa is well-known for its antiqui- 
ties, it would be superfluous to mention, 
but the indirect influence of these antiqui- 
ties on our school-room could scarcely be 
understood without a full explanation. 

I have mentioned that my mother was a 
woman with theories, and that she thought 
English nurses were the best fitted to keep 
children well-washed, well-fed, and gener- 
ally well-groomed. But when it came to 
the intellectual development of the child 
mind, she, being a German herself, 
thought that German training stood first, 
and our governesses and tutors were, with 
few exceptions, always German. She in- 
sisted upon their having excellent diplo- 
mas, and, indeed, engaged no tutor who 
did not have a university degree. 
C33] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

Now, Italy, for many and various rea- 
sons, has always been the land that Ger- 
mans dream of. Some long for it as the 
ideal place for a wedding-trip, others long 
for its climate, others for its art treasures, 
and others long for it for special reasons, 
as to study old Latin epitaphs, or to work 
out some particular point in architecture. 

Our tutors were usually young men 
who profited of a chance to come to Italy 
in order to pursue their own studies side 
by side with their teaching. My mother 
engaged a young man who had brilliantly 
finished his university career, and who 
wished to come to us principally because 
we spent the most severe part of the win- 
ter at Pisa, where he could work out some 
point in connection with the sarcophagi, 
which still can be seen in Pisa's old ceme- 
tery. But this was discovered later. 

He ruled the school-room with a rod of 
iron ; in fact, he was dismissed for break- 

[34;] 



IN A CEMETERY 

ing a heavy ruler on my brother's shoul- 
der. It was he, by the way, who, not 
being allowed to whip my sister, used to 
whip one of the boys every time she did 
something wrong. She was expected to 
pay them one cent for it, but, with patri- 
cian contempt for money, the boys stood 
the whipping, and refused to be paid. 

Instead of taking the children for the 
customary English two-hour walk through 
the beautiful country around our villa, the 
German student-instructor took them 
every single day to the old cemetery. 

You remember it, no doubt — a large 
square filled with holy earth, brought at 
the time of the Crusades from Jerusalem, 
and all around it the beautiful arcade, 
decorated with the wonderful frescos, 
which people from all over the world come 
to see. Baedeker marks the Camposanto 
with three stars. 

The children tried to amuse themselves 
C35] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

as best they could. They played hide- 
and-seek behind the sarcophagi, those 
which the student did not happen to be 
studying, of course. They examined the 
frescos in detail, and described them 
graphically to us little ones when they got 
home. Particularly did they dwell on the 
fat, naked monk, almost rent apart by the 
angel and the devil struggling to gain pos- 
session of him. 

But the frescos and tombstones very 
soon lost all charm, and after a while they 
were hard up for something to do. 

You will ask: "How could they be kept 
two hours every day in a cemetery? Did 
the man have no sense? And what did 
your father and mother say about it?" 

I can reply: "Alas! German educators 
have often plenty of uncommon, and just 
as often very little common, sense. As for 
my father and mother — the rules were 
just as strict concerning our asking ques- 
£361 



IN A CEMETERY 

tions as they were concerning complaints 
about anything our instructors pleased to 
do. My father and mother had no idea 
that the children spent their afternoons at 
the church-yard." 

It happened now that the funeral ser- 
vices for my sparrow, combined with the 
long hours spent at the Camposanto, fos- 
tered a curious idea in the children's mind. 

They began to think that after all our 
own little cemetery did not amount to 
much, and that something ought to be 
done to make it more sacred. Finally they 
devised a way. 

In the square of the Camposanto that I 
have mentioned as filled with holy ground, 
thousands of men had been buried. In 
one corner behind a large Roman urn was 
a heap of human bones that demanded re- 
burial. 

The startling idea of the children was 
this: If the holy earth from Jerusalem had 

C373 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

made the Camposanto particularly holy, 
why should it not make our own little 
cemetery holy, too? If, moreover, they 
added a generous supply of the Crusa- 
ders' bones, surely nothing would be left 
to be desired. So for several days the two 
boys and my sister filled their pockets with 
earth from Jerusalem and human bones, 
that were carefully deposited in our play- 
cemetery. 

Unfortunately one day the tutor brought 
them home somewhat late, and the bones 
and earth had to be left in their pockets. 
They were found by the nurse who at- 
tended to their clothes. 

Her horror was indescribable. Almost 
howling she rushed to my mother, asking : 
"What does the German tutor want the 
signorini to do with the bones of the 
dead? Of course, he is a heretic, but shall 
he train the signorini to commit such sac- 
rilege?" 

[3811 



IN A CEMETERY 

The tutor had to explain, and I do not 
think he passed a pleasant quarter of an 
hour. He had to admit that for many 
weary weeks the children had spent their 
walking time in the Camposanto; that he 
had given no thought to what they were 
doing. After that the English daily walks 
were conscientiously resumed. 

The bones, to the smallest bit, were care- 
fully collected, and reverently taken back 
to the corner of the Camposanto, where, 
no doubt, they lie to this day. 



C393 



IV 

ON DOLLS 



IV 

ON DOLLS 

HAVING my place in the family 
between two boys, I preferred 
their amusements to my own, 
and, on the whole, my interest in dolls was 
not great. I did not care to play with 
them unless my brothers joined me, and 
this I could not often induce them to do. 

Alick was fertile in luminous ideas, and 
he had one inspiration which furnished 
our elders endless merriment. It amused 
even my father when he heard about it. 

The documentary evidence is in my 
possession to-day — a priceless treasure. 
It is a sheet of heavy drawing paper, to 
which passing years have imparted a yel- 
lowish tinge which makes it look like 
parchment. On this sheet, Alick, in his 

C43] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

childish handwriting, has written in Ital- 
ian, that he had drawn up a contract be- 
tween Ritchie and me. According to the 
contract, I selected Ritchie as the father 
of my three daughters. There are two 
clauses: First, it is distinctly understood 
that the father may not touch the daugh- 
ters without the permission of their 
mother; if he ever does, the contract shall 
be considered at an end; second, if the 
father gives his daughters any presents 
and does not state distinctly beforehand 
that he may, at pleasure, take them back, 
it shall not be permissible for him to take 
back such presents; but the mother may 
at her pleasure, confiscate them and ap- 
propriate them to her own use. At the 
bottom of this document are three signa- 
tures : 

Signature of the mother — Lisi; 
Signature of the father — RiccL 
Witness — Alick. 

C44] 



ON DOLLS 

There has been only one period in my 
life when I played with dolls a good deal, 
and this was when I was nine years old 
and had to lie in bed ill most of the time 
for a whole winter. I had eleven small 
china dolls then, and these I organized 
into a dramatic troupe. The object of my 
dramatic performances was a revengeful 
one, and this requires some explanation: 

We had a governess, a German of 
course, whom I particularly disliked. She 
must have been a good teacher, judging 
by some of our exercise books that still 
exist, but she lacked tact, truthfulness, 
and justice. The incident which first 
roused in me an active dislike that never 
ceased was characteristic. 

One day in the history lesson Fraeulein 
asked for a book. We were all in the 
school-room, seated at the large walnut 
study-table, we on stools, and Fraeulein 
on a comfortable chair with a back to it. 
[45] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

When Fraeulein asked for the book I at 
once jumped up with the intention of get- 
ting it out of the book-case. I had 
scarcely reached the middle of the room 
when Fraeulein shouted: 

"Sit down!" 

"Immediately," I answered, starting 
back for the table. 

"Not immediately — instantly!" was 
the fierce, angry order. 

I sat down on the floor. 

This was one time my mother refused to 
punish me when I was reported to her for 
insolent behavior. 

Fraeulein succeeded in drawing out the 
worst in me. Never before and never 
since do I remember showing such bitter- 
ness and such contempt for any one. 

Another time, when we were spending 

the summer months at Leghorn, my 

mother went to Germany and left Alick, 

Ritchie, and me alone with Fraeulein. 

C463 



ON DOLLS 

Every evening we were allowed to go to 
The Baths, where we met other children 
with whom we could play. 

Class distinctions are marked in Italy, 
yet there is a certain democratic sentiment 
which draws all people together on an 
equal footing on the mere basis of culture 
and education. Besides, whatever the 
faults of Italians may be, they are not 
snobs. The least snobbishness, the least 
expressed consciousness of superiority 
because of a difference in rank or posi- 
tion, would have appeared unpardonable 
to us. But we had an instinct that told us 
whether people were nice or not. 

Fraeulein lacked this instinct entirely, 
and she became acquainted with several 
Jewish women who, however respectable 
they may have been, were decidedly vul- 
gar. Now, while the Jews at Leghorn are 
very numerous, and some of them no 
doubt have many of the less desirable 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

characteristics of the Jewish race, there 
are, however, Livornese Jews who are 
highly educated, and who are treated as 
equals by the most cultured people in 
Italy. In fact, the prejudice against Jews 
in Italy is not as strong as it is in America. 

Fraeulein's friends lavished fulsome 
flattery upon me. The climax was reached 
when one of them, after extolling my 
beauty, my clothes, my intelligence, asked 
if she might kiss me. 

"No," I answered. "Mama never 
would allow it in the world." 

Fraeulein was horrified, took me away 
and punished me. Then she asked me: 

"Why would you not let that nice lady 
kiss you?" 

"I don't like her," I said. "Besides, 
she is a Jew." 

"But," Fraeulein remonstrated, "don't 
you know that even our Lord Jesus was 
a Jew?" 

£483 



ON DOLLS 

"I know it," was the prompt reply. 
"Jesus was good. I know he came on 
earth poor and humble, when he might 
have been a king, and he probably chose 
to be a Jew so as to be as low and des- 
picable as possible." 

This sparring was not conducive to an 
amiable understanding between Fraeu- 
lein and me, and in the winter, when we 
had left Leghorn, the breach grew wider 
and wider. At that time — after a court- 
ship which my mother did not know about 
till long after I had discovered it, and 
which had aroused my contempt — Fraeu- 
lein became engaged to my brother's 
Latin tutor. 

She was as sentimental as a German 
can possibly be, and that means beyond 
description. Until she met this young 
man her Schwaermerei had been divided 
between Goethe and Unser Fritz. In 
fact, she had the pictures of the three — 
[49: 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

the greatest German poet, the Imperial 
Crown Prince, and the Latin tutor — on 
her bureau. In the evening before going 
to bed she kissed them all, the last one 
twice. The common-sense instilled by 
our English nurses made me look upon 
this performance as idiotic. 

The dolls served me now to pay Fraeu- 
lein back for all the unreasonable, unjust 
punishments I had ever received. I or- 
ganized them into a dramatic company, 
those four and five inches long represent- 
ing adults, those two and three inches 
long representing children. I composed 
only one cycle of plays, all centering about 
Fraeulein and her love affairs. The prin- 
cipal personages were, Fraeulein (who 
being called Helena, Italian Elena, was 
given the fictitious name of Balena, the 
Italian for whale) ; her lover; Goethe; Un- 
ser Fritz; and tradesmen, a butcher, a 
baker, etc. The plot of my plays varied. 
£50] 



ON DOLLS 

We made our actors speak in German, 
Italian, and English. Sometimes the 
scene would be as follows: — 

The governess and the tutor were pre- 
sumed to have been married. The butcher 
came with a bill : 

She. 

I need money to pay the butcher's bill. 

He. 
I have none, I never had any, and I 'm never 
going to have any. 

She. 
But we must pay the bill, or we shall not have 
anything to eat. 

He. 
Why don't you get somebody to give it to you? 

She. 
I shall try with Goethe. 

(Exit He. Enter Goethe. The doll being china 
could not be made to bend her knees, and as she 
assumed a deferential position, generally had to 
lie on her face.) 

She. 
Dear Goethe, I have loved you all my life. I 
have kissed your picture every evening before 

C5U 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

going to bed. Don't you think you ought to pay 
my butcher's bill? 

Goethe. 
I am writing poetry. I cannot pay butcher's 
bills. 

(Exit Goethe. Enter He). 
He. 
Has Goethe paid the butcher's bill? 

She. 
No, he has not. The butcher will not give us 
any more meat, and we shall have nothing to eat 
for dinner. 

He. 
Why don't you ask Unser Fritz to pay the 
butcher's bill? 

She. 
I shall do so. 

(Exit He. Enter Unser Fritz.) 
Unser Fritz. 
"What do you wish? 

She. 
I have loved you all my life. I have always said 
you were the handsomest man in the world. I 
have kissed your picture every evening before 
going to bed. Don't you think you ought to pay 
my butcher's bill? 

[52] 



ON DOLLS 

Unser Fritz. 
Of course I shall, gladly and at once. Here is 
money, take it! 

She. 
Thank you, thank you, Unser Fritz. Hence- 
forth every night I shall kiss your picture twice 
and Goethe's on'y once. 

(Exit Unser Fritz. Enter He.) 

She. 

Unser Fritz paid the butcher's bill. 

(The two dolls join hands, and are made to 
dance around the improvised stage, crying: 
"Happy Gee Gee!") 

There were numerous variations to this 
scene, and other highly sensational plots, 
conjugal quarrels particularly, in which 
He invariably threw at Her a fork, which 
was said to stick in her cheek. The spec- 
tators had to use their imagination be- 
cause, being a china doll, a realistic carry- 
ing out of the scene was out of the ques- 
tion. 

These performances often used to be 
[53] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

given when I was lying in my little bed 
alone most of the day. The stage was an 
invalid's table that could be put right be- 
fore me. Only at the play-hour, after 
dinner, were my two little brothers, Alick 
and Ritchie, allowed to come in and keep me 
company. Then the real performance was 
given. The dramatic work done when I was 
alone might be considered as rehearsals. 

Once or twice Fraeulein was an unwill- 
ing witness. She burst into tears, calling 
me names. When my mother finally 
found out about it, even this German 
governess went her way. 

But she had scarcely had all she de- 
served. To save herself trouble, she had 
done intellectually with me what some 
wretched women in poverty-stricken fac- 
tory districts do materially with their 
babies. They poison their babies with 
brandy in order to keep them asleep and 
quiet — Fraeulein risked poisoning my 

C54] 



ON DOLLS 

mind with the most sentimental, sensa- 
tional German novels in order to spare 
herself trouble and keep me satisfied dur- 
ing a winter of illness. 

Volume after volume of the German 
periodicals, Die Gartenlaube and Ueber 
Land und Meer, did I swallow — swallow 
is the only suitable word. The triangle 
situation — husband, wife, and the objec- 
tionable third — was familiar to me, and, 
in fact, my idea of the trouble about 
household bills did not come from home 
experiences, but from the trite parental 
speeches against love in a cottage found 
in the novels I had read. 

Most of Auerbach's novels I had at my 
disposal, and The Villa on the Rhine, in 
which a German tutor comes to the United 
States and joins the Northerners during 
the War of the Rebellion, inspired me 
with deep-felt sympathy for the South, 
which has lived on to this day, though, 
C55] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

with my long experience in the North, I 
have taken a very different view of the 
Yankees. But my first impressions were 
— the North for German tutors, the South 
for people who had no use for them, ergo 
my sympathies were all with the South. 

My gratitude for my early English edu- 
cation is particularly strong, because I 
think that without it this period of novel 
reading (I was still little more than a 
baby) might have been pernicious. As it 
was, it only developed an almost unrea- 
sonable and unjust scorn for Germans, 
whom I judged entirely by my gover- 
nesses and the heroes and heroines of the 
periodicals I had read. Only much later 
did I learn to value the German people 
for the sincerity of their feeling, their 
earnestness and their scholarship. But, 
curiously enough, it has been in America 
that I have grown nearer to this land of 
my fathers, for I must not forget that I 
am part German myself. 
[56] 



V 

MY MOTHER AND HER DOLL 



V 

MY MOTHER AND HER DOLL 

THE best doll story in the family- 
is about my mother and her doll. 
This becomes a reminiscence of 
my own childhood, because of all the 
stories I then heard, it was my favorite 
one. 

Having mentioned the fact that I was 
considered an uninteresting child, it will 
surprise no reader if the best stories are 
not about myself. 

My mother was born at Leghorn. Leg- 
horn is the ugly duckling among the hun- 
dred cities of beautiful Italy that our 
poets write about. We consider Leghorn 
a new place, because its existence as a 
real city dates back only four or five hun- 
dred years, and we ascribe its lack of ar- 
C59] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

tistic interest to its newness. Old age, 
like everything else, is relative. 

Before the days of United Italy, Leg- 
horn was a free port, and was far more 
important and prosperous than it is now. 
In those days it gave its name to Leghorn 
chickens and Leghorn hats. Moreover, 
travelers by land and sea used to stop 
there on their way to Southern Italy, and 
many English personages mention Leg- 
horn in the account of their travels. 

Toward the middle of the last century 
my grandfather was German Consul- 
General at Leghorn, and he was a most 
remarkable man; not only remarkable, 
but distinctly original. 

He came of Saxon parentage, and as 
far as I can make out, of small landed 
nobility. He was the youngest of twenty- 
four children, all of one mother, and nine- 
teen of whom sat at table at one time. 
This, according to modern scientific theo- 

C60] 



MOTHERANDHERDOLL 

ries, may account for the strength of 
character which he developed. Reared 
on Germanic ideas as to the authority of 
the elders, the child who lives through 
being bossed by twenty-three brothers and 
sisters, and other relatives and friends 
whom we can presume existed, can surely 
be accepted as an instance of the survival 
of the fittest, who, not being crushed, 
probably developed abnormal tenacity. 

Moreover, his childhood coincided with 
the terrible Napoleonic wars. Three of 
his brothers fell in the Battle of Luetzen. 
This would have been enough to make 
him dislike the French, for you can 
hardly be expected to feel friendly toward 
a nation that kills off your relatives whole- 
sale; but this was the least. 

The French were once quartered on his 
father's little estate, and some brutal, 
drunken soldiers kicked his mother down- 
stairs, causing injuries from which she 

[01 3 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

never recovered. This made the consul- 
general hate the French, and, because of 
their relation to them, all the Latin races. 
If he had not hated the French and the 
Latin races, this story of my mother and 
her doll could never have been written. 

Being the youngest of the twenty-four 
children of a German country gentleman 
with a diminutive estate, it stands to rea- 
son that he had to make a living. For- 
eign military service was almost the only 
profession open to the impecunious young 
nobleman. He entered the English navy, 
in which he served creditably for several 
years. He finally resigned, and joined a 
brother at Leghorn. Though it would 
perhaps be interesting to tell how this 
brother got to Leghorn, why my grand- 
father joined him, and how he finally be- 
came consul-general, it would take me too 
far away from my subject — My Mother 
and Her Doll — and I must leave such de- 
[62] 



MOTHERANDHERDOLL 

tails in order to plunge just as soon as 
possible in media res. I cannot do this, 
however, without at least telling that he 
had great luck, for he married a pretty, 
rich young Italian girl of good family. 

They had a little girl — my mother. 

The consul-general in some ways was 
distinctly queer. He left home before the 
child was born, saying that if it was a boy 
he would come back; if it was a girl he 
would not. He evidently did not plan to 
have as large a family as his father had 
had before him, and considered this first 
experiment final The child, as I have 
said, proved to be a girl, and the consul- 
general would not come home. He stayed 
away for eighteen months, until they sent 
him a beautiful miniature of the baby. 
The sight of the baby face — an exception- 
ally beautiful one, too — evidently awoke 
the consul-general's paternal feelings, and 
he returned to his own home, relieving the 
[63 3 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

vice-consul of the extra duties the poor 
fellow had been compelled to carry. 

I have tried to show how environment 
in early youth developed certain charac- 
teristics of resistance, and made of him, 
as a German friend of mine puts it, "a 
much obstinate person." He gave in a 
little, but very little. When he came back 
he allowed himself to be fond of the child, 
though it was a girl, but — and here his 
queerness showed again — since he could 
not get around the fact that she was 
merely a girl, he simply controlled the 
situation by bringing up the child exactly 
as though she had been a boy. 

Now, at Leghorn, seventy-three years 
ago, to bring up the daughter of an 
Italian mother as a boy was a tremendous 
thing to do. Yet he did it, and not only 
did it bravely, but successfully. The 
child learned to speak four languages with 
equal fluency, an unheard-of thing for 
C64] 



MOTHERANDHERDOLL 

girls to do in those days. She learned to 
tramp for miles through the country, to 
ride horseback and to swim, though then 
young ladies hardly ever took long walks, 
rode or swam. Just as soon as she was 
old enough she was even made to study 
bookkeeping and the elements of law. 
Yet the crowning masculine accomplish- 
ment was obtained when every Sunday 
morning the Austrian drum-major was 
summoned to make her beat the drum. 
Then the consul-general was satisfied, for 
he had got the best of destiny. 

Evidently, however, there was a lurk- 
ing Germanic sense of the proper sphere 
of woman, and this showed in one phase 
of the child's education. Part of the day 
she was given in charge of two genteel 
English women, who taught her the Eng- 
lish language, and what they considered 
the best of English manners. Incredible, 
though true, she was actually taught to 
[65] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

shape her mouth by saying prunes, plums 
and prisms. She had to lie flat on her 
back one hour each day; and she was 
taught a primness of speech of which the 
Italians are blissfully ignorant. For in- 
stance, once when on returning from a 
long walk she remarked: "Oh, my legs 
are so tired!" she was solemnly informed: 
"Young ladies never have legs, they have 
only feet." Since nature had endowed 
the child with exceptional beauty, and 
absolutely exceptional intelligence, the re- 
sult of her extraordinary training was at 
once charming and unusual. 

The consul-general hated the Latin 
races with characteristic tenacity. This, 
of course, makes it rather strange that he 
should have taken an Italian wife, but 
probably he did not consider a woman of 
enough importance to give her nationality 
much thought, and if he paid such atten- 
tion to his little daughter, it was to make 
IT 66] 



MOTHERANDHERDOLL 

her as little a woman as possible. Still as 
the child grew in beauty, strength and 
intelligence, he realized that the time 
would come when she might by marriage 
fall into the clutches of some man of the 
hated Latin race. This he was deter- 
mined to prevent. 

He thought long and hard, and finally 
succeeded in solving the problem to his 
satisfaction. He decided to marry her to 
a man of his own race. But in those days 
Germans were scarce in Italy, and espe- 
cially at Leghorn; at least Germans who 
could be considered proper suitors for the 
daughter of the consul-general. He had 
a friend who would have made an ideal 
husband, save for one serious drawback. 
He was thirty-five years older than my 
mother. Still, a husband thirty-five years 
older than his wife, and German, seemed 
preferable to an Italian, even though the 
latter were of a more suitable age. So 
C673 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

the consul-general decided the matter in 
his own mind, and soon persuaded his 
friend of the desirability of such an ar- 
rangement. 

The friend was a dear man. He had 
known my mother all her life. Indeed, 
when she was weaned he had carried her 
up and down in his arms all night, and 
this because he was the one who could 
best subdue her wailing. He had often 
done the same for her when she cut her 
first teeth. Moreover, ever since she was 
a mere baby he had contributed two fine 
dolls a year to her collection, dolls that 
always came directly from Paris and were 
the best any little girl could wish for. My 
mother was exceedingly fond of dolls, a 
feminine perversity in the face of the ef- 
forts her father had made to give her mas- 
culine tastes and inclinations. But the 
fact that the friend gave her the dolls, and 
that my mother preferred such presents 
[68] 



MOTHERANDHERDOLL 

to any other, had established a particu- 
larly friendly relation between the two, 
although it scarcely paved the way to 
marriage. 

Yet the friend was persuaded to over- 
look all difficulties and on New Year's 
Day, in the fifteenth year of my mother's 
life, he sent her a formal letter in which 
he requested her hand in marriage. It 
was written in German, and requested the 
high-born young lady to do him the honor 
of conferring her hand upon him. I have 
seen the letter, and I can testify that it 
was a most complicated and elaborate 
epistolary performance. 

His Christmas gift had, as usual, been 
a doll, and a particularly fine one. No 
wonder, therefore, that my mother was 
not prepared for an offer of marriage, all 
the more as she was young for her age, 
and had not the slightest tendency to let 
her thoughts rove in this direction. When 

£™1 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

the letter first came she was delighted at 
the mere fact of receiving it, for fifty-nine 
years ago correspondence was not quite 
as commonplace as it has grown now, and 
for a little girl a letter was an exceptional 
treat. Her first delight was followed by 
an impression of surprise and bewilder- 
ment. She did not understand what her 
good friend meant, nor why he wanted 
her hand! She willingly would have 
given him both hands any time he came, 
and saw no reason for his writing a letter 
about it. You must remember that Ger- 
man was an acquired language for her, 
and that the English maiden ladies had 
not let her wade through volumes of 
trashy German periodicals. At fourteen 
she had not philosophized as to life and 
marriage as much as I had at ten. 

After having pondered over the missive, 
she took it to my grandmother, and asked 
for an explanation. My grandmother, 

C70] 



MOTHERANDHERDOLL 

who did not know German, but did know 
the contents of the letter, made the matter 
clear to her in the following way : 

"Harriet," she said, "would n't you like 
to go to Paris?" 

"Yes," my mother answered promptly, 
"but what has that got to do with the 
letter?" 

Then my grandmother, who was an 
Italian, and in true Italian fashion over- 
looked everything in her pride of marry- 
ing off her daughter when she was only 
fourteen, replied: 

"The letter means that if you '11 marry 
our good friend, he will take you to Paris." 

This decided the matter. My mother 
was delighted at the idea of going to Paris 
with her good friend. She says that she 
had secret visions of an unlimited number 
of dolls. The betrothal was announced to 
friends and relatives, and my mother 
found herself suddenly grown up. 
[711 



A T U S C A N CHILDHOOD 

Consequently she had to put on long 
dresses. The effort to masculinize her 

had made her an active, restless child, and 
she confesses herself that she was some- 
what of a tomboy. Moreover, she was 
very small for her age, and did not appear 
as old as she actually was. She had no 
desire whatsoever to grow up. and when 
she found that giving her hand in mar- 
riage involved wearing long skirts, she 
wept and wailed, declaring that under 
such conditions she would never get mar- 
ried. 

But the consul-general was a man of 
iron. He convinced her that, once she 
had consented, nothing on earth could ex- 
cuse her for breaking her word. Even if 
she did not want to get married, she would 
have to wear long skirts anyway as a pun- 
ishment, so that the poor child found there 
was no escape for her: her choice now lay 
between long skirts and a trip to Paris, or 

C72] 



MOTHERANDHERDOLL 

long skirts and staying at home in dis- 
grace. No wonder she decided on the 
former. 

In May, only a few days before she 
entered on her sixteenth year, the mar- 
riage took place, and her husband imme- 
diately fulfilled his promise of taking her 
to Paris. 

It was before the days of railroads, and 
the journey through central Italy was 
beautiful beyond description. Much had 
remained unchanged when I was a child 
myself. In the month of May the wheat- 
fields in Tuscany are an emerald-green. 
The mulberry trees are planted at equal 
distances on the border of every field, and 
from tree to tree the vines hang in regular 
graceful festoons, never more beautiful 
than when, as just at this period, they 
have put on their garb of transparent 
green young leaves. In the stretch from 
Leghorn to Pisa the view is often free, 
C73] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

and the eye rests on an expanse of green 
meadows that are used for pasture, and 
are segmented by a network of canals, 
which in those days were the mainway of 
traffic between Leghorn and the inland. 
Boats, much larger, though somewhat 
similar in shape to the Venetian gondola, 
were drawn by men who, like beasts of 
burden, were harnessed to ropes and 
walked along the borders of the canals. 
When the wind blew in the right direction 
sails were put up to lighten their labor. 
As the canals are narrow, and the water in 
them cannot be seen, while the sails of the 
boats show plainly, one got the impres- 
sion that the ships were sailing freely on 
the green grass. And this reminds me — 
Alexander Dumas pere in a book of travel 
on Italy, in all seriousness states that in 
his day the Tuscans were still so far be- 
hind the times that they plowed their fields 
with sails! I do not know if the consul- 



ts 



» 



MOTHERANDHERDOLL 

general ever came to know about this, but 
it would, no doubt, have served to increase 
his contempt for the frivolity of the Latin 
races. 

My mother, who had not often left 
home, and to whom driving from Pisa to 
Leghorn and watching these boats was as 
great a delight as it later was to us, en- 
joyed the beginning of her travels very 
much. From the window of the carriage 
she eagerly watched all these sights. But 
when they reached northern Italy, and had 
to drive for days and days over long, dusty 
roads bordered with stately, monotonous 
poplars, she began to be bored. She re- 
gretted her bargain. She was sorry she 
had ever married, even if it meant going to 
Paris. 

What her husband thought, I do not 

know. He had married my mother with 

the understanding that he was to save her 

from the possible calamity of marrying 

C753 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

into the Latin race. He fully recognized 
the fact, as did also the consul-general, 
that my mother was altogether too young 
to be treated as a real married woman, but 
he expected that time and patience would 
make her into something that would 
brighten and bless the last days of his life. 
Anyway, my mother admits that he had 
his hands full during their wedding-trip, 
for she proved a most restless, trying, trav- 
eling companion. I think that he must 
have felt more like a governess than like a 
bridegroom. 

He was a sweet-tempered man, and 
very kind to her. In fact, during this 
whole trip he lost his temper only once, 
and then he had some excuse for it. They 
had been stopping over night at some small 
inn in northern Italy. My mother, who 
had grown to dread the long days in the 
closed carriage, made the most of her op- 
portunity, and rising with the sun ran into 
C763 



MOTHERANDHERDOLL 

the fields to catch butterflies. Later in the 
morning the inn-keeper saw her and called 
out to her: "Signorina, will you please tell 
your grandfather that the post-horses will 
be ready in a short time, and that break- 
fast is waiting for you?" 

My mother rushed to her husband in 
perfect delight, crying: 'They have taken 
you for my grandfather, the horses will 
soon be ready, and breakfast is waiting 
for us." 

Then it was that the husband lost his 
temper. 

They finally reached Paris, and both 
were equally glad of it; my mother be- 
cause she would not have to sit still so 
much of the day, and her husband because 
he found some one to help him in his peda- 
gogical duties. 

In those days a newly-married woman 
had but little more liberty than an unmar- 
ried girl, and that means almost no liberty 
E773 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

at all. My mother found a chaperon ready 
for her, a Countess de Montmorency, who 
was a dear friend of my grandmother's. 

The countess was a reactionary aristo- 
crat. What I mean by this is that she be- 
longed to the class of French nobles who, 
after the Revolution, spent their lives in 
due contemplation of the privileges of 
which the Revolution had deprived them, 
and which the restoration of monarchy 
had at least nominally brought back to 
them. The countess was an acute chronic 
case. During the Revolution her family 
had been among the unfortunate emi- 
grants who had known the worst poverty 
and distress, and, still a mere child, she 
herself had been compelled to sell petits 
pates in the streets of London. No won- 
der that she spent her life reacting against 
a world that had allowed such things. 
But what interested me most, though it 
has no direct bearing on my story, was 

178-2 



MOTHERANDHERDOLL 

that as a child the countess had been a 
playmate of the unfortunate Dauphin, the 
little son of Marie Antoinette. 

My mother admits that the countess 
was sincerely interested in her, and that 
she got her clutches on her with the inten- 
tion of doing her much good. She taught 
her things which even the genteel English- 
women had not taught her. She taught 
her that no woman who had not been con- 
taminated by modern ideas, and had not 
lost all self-respect, would allow pink and 
blue ribbons on the underwear of her 
trousseau. She taught her that even the 
tiniest bit of a flounce was not permissible 
on a skirt that was to be worn on the street 
in the sight of plebeians. 

My mother submitted patiently to her 
aristocratic old friend's counsels and com- 
mands. She regretfully told her maid to 
take all the pink and blue ribbons out of 
her underwear, and to rip every offending 
C793 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

flounce from any skirt which a plebeian 
eye might see. 

The countess did not stop at this. She 
taught my mother to bow from the waist 
and not from the head, and to courtesy 
three times backward without getting en- 
tangled in her skirt. For, dear American 
readers, do not forget that we courtesy 
once to a person of quality, twice to a 
princess of the blood, and three times to a 
crowned head. My mother claims em- 
phatically that courtesying has been the 
hardest thing she has ever had to learn. 
Bookkeeping, law, beating the drum, and 
later bringing up seven children have been 
nothing as compared to that. 

The days went on. My mother was 
learning manners and being bored. Be- 
tween her good husband and the good 
countess she had no fun at all. She 
longed for her father, for her mother, for 
her friends, and, last but not least, for the 
drum-major. 

1802 



MOTHER AND HER DOLL 

Nor was she at all consoled by the fact 
that her husband was showing himself 
most munificent. He spared no money, 
and the countess spared neither time nor 
interest, to fit my mother out with all kinds 
of rare and beautiful things to wear. Her 
husband was even planning to give her a 
whole set of Chantilly laces, which the 
countess had promised to select with 
every possible care. 

A day was chosen on which my mother, 
accompanied by the countess, was to 
make a final choice of these laces. The 
husband left the money to pay for them 
with my mother, and the countess was 
to call for her at the hotel and take her 
to the shop where the laces were to be 
bought. 

On the morning of the appointed day 
my mother was alone at the hotel. Her 
husband had left her. The countess had 
not yet come, sending word that she could 
not come until considerably later than she 

£81 ] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

had expected. A coupe was waiting at the 
door — and my mother was bored to death. 
She felt bitter and rebellious. She had 
thought that getting married meant going 
out alone, eating whatever she liked, and 
doing just as she pleased. And now she 
was kept much more strictly than she had 
ever been kept at home. She decided to 
show her independence as a married 
woman, to go out alone, and to satisfy the 
longing which had made her so anxious to 
come to Paris, a longing which the coun- 
tess and her husband had declared child- 
ish, and had not gratified. The child 
wished to go to Giroux, the world-famed 
shop from which for years she had re- 
ceived her Christmas toys. 

It was an easy thing to get into the car- 
riage, and order the coachman to drive to 
Giroux. It was just as easy to get out 
there, and to ask an affable clerk to show 
her the finest dolls they had in stock. But 
C823 



MOTHER AND HER DOLL 

it was not so easy to come away without 
buying anything. The clerk smirked, 
bowed, explained, and persuaded ''Mad- 
ame" — for the long dresses and the wed- 
ding-ring which showed through her little 
mitt, proved her right to this title — that 
she could not possibly leave without tak- 
ing one of the handsomest dolls. 

"But I have no money with me," said 
my mother, well aware that her husband 
and the countess would not approve of 
such a purchase. 

"We shall send some one with Madame, 
and Madame can pay when she gets to the 
hotel," suggested the clerk. 

So she fell. She purchased a doll that 
could speak and walk, that had real eye- 
lashes and finger-nails. She wanted the 
doll, but she really would have refused if 
the clerk had allowed it. Down in the 
depths of her heart, however, she was 
grateful to him because he compelled her 
£833 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

to do what she knew she should not, but 
dearly longed to do. 

She reached the hotel only a few min- 
utes before the clerk came to deliver the 
new acquisition, a doll which was meant 
to be given in homage to some little royal 
princess, and for which Giroux charged 
the modest sum of one thousand francs. 

My mother paid without hesitancy. 
She had the money for the laces, and she 
did not think that a thousand francs more 
or less would make much difference. Her 
bookkeeping had not been of the kind to 
teach her the value of money. The clerk 
left, well-satisfied with the promptness of 
the payment, and my mother remained 
alone with her doll. It was the first time 
since she left home that she was perfectly 
happy. 

But the countess arrived ; she was hor- 
rified. How could a young married 
woman who fully understood the responsi- 
C84] 



MOTHER AND HER DOLL 

bilities of her position and what she owed 
to propriety, go alone to Giroux, buy a 
doll, and play with it like a little girl of 
three ? 

Her husband also soon returned, and 
he was not only horrified and amazed, he 
was very angry at the waste of money, 
and at the childishness of his bride. He 
scolded her, and he scolded her long and 
hard. 

My mother was a very, very little girl ; 
she had been very lonely, very homesick, 
and she was not accustomed to have her 
"good friend," as she still thought of him, 
speak harshly to her. Until he married 
her there had, of course, been no necessity 
for discipline. But she could not reason 
this out then as she did many, many years 
later when she told the story to me. Her 
heart was broken. She wept and she 
wailed. She wanted to go home. She 
wanted to see her father and mother. She 
[85] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

did not want to be married. She wanted 
to go back to her short dresses, and to her 
dolls. 

Her description was vivid, and I can 
almost see her as she lay in a big arm- 
chair, her arm pressed tightly over her 
eyes, her feet stretched out straight and 
stiff, and her whole little body shaken with 
sobs. I can almost see the countess and 
the husband distressed and perplexed at 
the situation. It seemed almost impossi- 
ble to comfort her. 

Indeed, what she needed was a mother 
to take her on her knees and wipe her 
eyes. Neither the husband nor the coun- 
tess thought of doing this, and the child 
kept repeating that she wanted to go home, 
she wanted to go to her father and mother, 
she did not want to stay in Paris another 
single day. 

It was her husband who finally com- 
forted her, but this only when he told her 
C86] 



MOTHER AND HER DOLL 

that they would leave Paris very, very 
soon, that nobody should take the doll 
from her, and that she might keep it with 
her in the carriage for the rest of the 
journey. 

And so it happened that the little daugh- 
ter of the consul-general finished her first 
wedding-trip with a doll on the front seat 
of the traveling carriage. 

Several years later my mother was left 
a widow. Then (and I think it served the 
consul-general just right) she married my 
father, a brilliant young Italian, a most 
characteristic representative of the hated 
Latin race. She took a long wedding-trip. 
She came home without any doll on the 
front seat of her carriage, but later on she 
took another trip with her husband, and 
this time she had no dolls, but five beauti- 
ful, healthy children. 



VI 

MY MOTHER AND HER LAMB 



VI 

MY MOTHER AND HER LAMB 

THERE was another story about 
my mother which also particu- 
larly delighted me. 

My great-grandparents lived at Leg- 
horn, and my mother was their oldest and 
favorite grandchild. From all she has 
told me herself I deduce that they spoiled 
her. I never knew any of my grandmoth- 
ers or great-grandmothers, and I have al- 
ways regretted it deeply, because I think 
that had they lived, there would have been 
some one in the world to pet and spoil me. 
But this is a digression. 

My great-grandparents were wealthy, 
though they lived in simple style. My 
great-grandmother was an unusually eco- 
nomical woman, for Italians are not as a 

C913 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

rule model housekeepers, but she was as 
thrifty as a New England farmer's wife. 

Part of the year they spent on a large 
estate, where my mother would remain 
with them for months. There my mother 
had the happiest time of her life. Her 
grandmother excused in her what she 
never excused in any one else, and her 
grandfather granted her every wish, if it 
were at all possible. Sometimes he got 
into trouble by doing so, for my mother 
was as fond of animals as she was of dolls, 
and pets introduce into a household an 
element of disorder of which my great- 
grandmother sincerely disapproved. But 
though she would reproach my great- 
grandfather for having allowed some stray 
cat or dog to be brought home, still she 
did not deprive her little granddaughter 
of the newly acquired treasure. 

Once her grandfather took my mother 
with him on a visit to one of the peasant 
C92] 



MY MOTHER AND HER LAMB 

houses that belonged to him. The shep- 
herds had just come down from the moun- 
tains with large flocks of sheep, and the 
natural result of this was that my mother 
asked for a little lamb. 

"Oh, Harriet," said her grandfather, 
"what will your grandma say? You '11 
want to have the lamb in the house, and 
you know that she will scold. Beside, the 
lamb will soon grow big, and then what 
will you do?" 

The child evaded the question. She 
knew she would gain her point if she only 
kept on coaxing. 

"Please, grandpapa, let me have the 
lamb! Please, grandpapa, let me have 
the lamb! Please, grandpapa, let me 
have the lamb!" 

Her good grandfather gave in at last, 
and they drove home with the little lamb 
nestling in my mother's lap. 

But as they neared the villa her grand- 

[93] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

father began to have qualms of conscience. 
He was afraid of what might be said when 
they reached the house with a new pet, 
after it had been distinctly understood 
that such a thing would never happen 
again. He tried to gain time, and per- 
suaded my mother not to take the lamb 
in at once, but to let him take it down to 
the vault, where he was to deposit some 
money several peasants had paid in. 

My great-grandfather's villa was very 
old; in fact, it came very near being a 
castle. There were subterranean passages 
and vaults, and in one of these my great- 
grandfather had a safe in which he used 
to keep the money paid by the tena-nts. 
Sometimes considerable sums were locked 
away there. 

You cannot, of course, have an old 
house with vaults and subterranean pas- 
sages without having a ghost, and, in 
fact, a well-developed ghost was said to 

CM] 



MY MOTHER AND HER LAMB 

inhabit these premises. The story con- 
nected with it was duly harrowing. They 
said that many years ago a woman and 
her baby had been buried alive there, and 
that on certain nights the moaning of the 
mother and the wailing of the child could 
be distinctly heard. Of course the family 
did not believe in the ghost, but the peas- 
ants did. 

My mother and her grandfather arrived 
at the villa at night, and, with the excuse 
of taking down the money, they took the 
little lamb to one of the vaults, waiting till 
morning to introduce it to my great-grand- 
mother, and hoping that by that time some 
way might be found to mitigate her wrath. 
My mother took down a soft piece of cloth, 
and a saucer with bread and milk. She 
fed the lamb as best she could with a 
spoon, then covered it up carefully, and 
reluctantly left it for the night. 

It was well known that my great-grand- 
C95] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

father kept money in the vaults, and the 
sums which he was said to keep there 
were grossly exaggerated. This served 
to tempt some unfortunate peasants who, 
no doubt, tired of their poverty, made up 
their minds to break into the vaults and 
to rob the safe. 

In the middle of the night they came 
stealthily to the villa and, thanks to a care- 
fully elaborated plan, actually succeeded 
in reaching the place where the safe was 
kept. 

But they had hardly begun to break 
open the door when they dropped their 
tools and ran away, for they distinctly 
heard the moaning of the mother and the 
wailing of the child, whose spirits they 
knew haunted the spot. 

After a little while their courage re- 
turned and they went back. As their 
steps neared the door the wailing of the 
child was heard again. Again they fled; 

[963 



MY MOTHER AND HER LAMB 

yet even this time the braver ones thought 
it mere nonsense, and declared that noth- 
ing should keep them from breaking into 
the vault and getting the money. 

But when they tried it the third time, 
and again began working on the door, the 
weird wailing was heard again, so dis- 
tinctly that the men dropped their tools in 
distress and fled. 

Next morning, when my great-grand- 
father, still much puzzled as to how he 
was going to break the news to his wife, 
came to get the lamb, he found not only 
the tools of the robbers, but a jacket which 
one of them had dropped in his fright. 
It served to identify the criminals, who 
were not professionals, but poor mis- 
guided peasants living on the estate. 
They confessed at once, saying that the 
ghost had warned them to give up their 
undertaking, and they described minutely 
how they had been able to distinguish be- 
C973 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

tween the moaning of the mother and the 
wailing of the child. 

Now my great-grandfather was a very- 
astute man. He never told that they had 
heard only the poor little lamb bleating 
when it heard their footsteps, yearning, 
perhaps, for the shepherd who would put 
it back into the fold. The well-established 
fact that the ghost had been heard (and 
after awhile, of course, it was said that it 
was actually seen by the men who at- 
tempted to break in) proved a powerful 
safeguard. It also made it easier for my 
great-grandfather to tell his wife how the 
lamb had saved them from being robbed. 

My great-grandmother, who was very 
thrifty — in fact, so thrifty that some peo- 
ple considered her altogether too fond of 
money — never uttered a word of reproach. 
The lamb grew into a sheep, and still was 
allowed to walk around the villa undis- 
turbed. 

[983 



MY MOTHER AND HER LAMB 

Another popular story, which • my 
mother told us often, yet not often enough 
to satisfy us, was the story of "The Saint." 

Any one driving from Pisa to Lucca 
may see, even to-day, a number of crosses 
along the roads. They are decorated with 
the ladder, the lance, the cock, and so 
forth. Some of them were erected by the 
Saint who plays the main part in my tale; 
but no guide-book will tell you about him. 

It was some time in the forties that a 
man with a large following made his ap- 
pearance in Tuscany. He wandered from 
place to place, fasting, praying, and plant- 
ing crosses in honor of the Lord. The 
people considered him a saint, and fol- 
lowed him in hopes of miracles, though no 
miracles are recorded. His fasting was 
extreme, for he was said to live on noth- 
ing but bread and water. And, moreover, 
he submitted himself to one self-inflicted 
discipline, praised by the Roman Cath- 

C99] LOFC. 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

olic Church, which my early English 
training makes me look upon with par- 
ticular aversion: he never was known to 
wash. Why this neglect of personal 
cleanliness, in such opposition to the Eng- 
lish law: "Cleanliness is next to Godli- 
ness," has grown in the Catholic Church, 
my historical studies have since ex- 
plained. But a discussion would be out 
of place here. An historical item which, 
however, is interesting, and which does 
belong here by right, is, that this man 
was said to have been one of the Terrorists 
who actively participated in the execution 
of Louis XVI. Remorse, they said, had 
pursued him ever since, and had finally 
made a saint of him. 

This "Saint," called "San Gennaro" 
(do not confuse him with the famous San 
Gennaro of Naples), finally reached my 
great-grandfather's estate. The enthu- 
siasm of the people had grown extreme. 



MY MOTHER AND HER LAMB 

As he went from village to village he was 
received by the clergy, and the crosses 
were planted with ever-increasing cere- 
monies. 

My great-grandfather was a religious 
man, though by no means bigoted ; but his 
wife was extreme in her religion. The 
reception planned for the wandering Saint 
was, therefore, a very elaborate one. 
Even a bishop from one of the neighbor- 
ing cities was invited to attend, and the 
country people gathered from far and 
near. There was to be a procession, fol- 
lowed by a banquet, planned with all the 
elaborateness which even now is a neces- 
sary tribute to men of the church. 

My mother says that she was disgusted 
with the filthiness of the Saint's appear- 
ance, and that she did not see how any 
one could bear to sit next to him at table. 
She watched him with eager curiosity. 
While all the other men of God enjoyed 

[101] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

the good food the Lord had provided for 
them, San Gennaro abstained from eat- 
ing and drinking. 

He asked for a cup of clear water and 
a crust of dry bread that he might eat 
alone in the dining-room when the others 
had finished their meal. His modest de- 
mand was granted, and though only clear 
water and dry bread was provided for 
him, my great-grandmother saw to it that 
the service used for the Saint should be of 
solid silver. Then every one withdrew, 
and he was left alone to pray, for so 
saintly was he, that with him it was not 
only fasting and constant praying, but 
eating and constant praying also. 

Nor did he spend much time on his 
crust of bread. In a few minutes he came 
out of the dining-room, and asked to be 
taken to the chapel, where he wished to 
spend an hour in prayer. He was defer- 
entially taken there by my great-grand- 
C102] 



MY MOTHER AND HER LAMB 

father, and left to an uninterrupted com- 
munion with God, for San Gennaro's re- 
quest that he should not, under any con- 
sideration, be disturbed, had been earnest 
and emphatic. 

I have stated already that my great- 
grandmother was not only thrifty, but just 
a wee bit more than thrifty, and when the 
banquet was over, and her guests disposed 
of in the parlors and the gardens, she 
made her way back to the dining-room to 
see that such provisions as had been left 
over should be conserved for future needs. 

In Italian families what remains of the 
meats is generally placed on the sideboard, 
and only cleared away after the guests 
have left the room. My thrifty great- 
grandmother did not allow this clearing 
away till she herself had mentally inven- 
toried what had been left. Her keen eye 
noticed, too, how much had actually been 
consumed. It was, therefore, with great 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

indignation she found that a whole chicken 
was missing. She did trust the butler, 
who had been with them for years and 
years, and she and the man himself were 
equally disturbed and troubled at the dis- 
appearance of more than half a chicken. 

Now my mother had a trick of giving 
things away — sometimes it would be fruit, 
sometimes part of a dessert — and the 
natural conclusion was, that she had 
grabbed the chicken and distributed it 
among some of the peasant children. 
But when the butler called her, and my 
great-grandmother questioned her, she 
absolutely denied having done it. 

"Harriet," insisted my great-grand- 
mother, "you know you 're always doing 
that kind of thing. Who could have taken 
it now?" 

My mother replied promptly: "The 
Saint." 

C1043 



MY MOTHER AND HER LAMB 

"What!" said my great-grandmother, 
raising her hands in horror. "Accuse a 
holy man of stealing chicken!" 

"Well," said my mother, "you did n't 
take it" ; pointing to the butler, "he did n't 
take it; I know I did n't take it, and the 
Saint has been in here alone. I don't like 
him, anyway: he 's too dirty." 

My great-grandmother, as I have said, 
was extremely religious, and though she 
had her favorite grandchild before her, 
her ire was aroused. She told the child 
that if she had no more discretion, and no 
more respect for holy people, she might 
just as well stay by herself, and as a pun- 
ishment, she should not be allowed to 
come into the parlors, or into the garden, 
till all the guests had left. 

My mother said that she thought it very 
unjust, and she went up-stairs to her room 
in tears. She wandered around the house 
C1053 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

for awhile, and then, bored, as a child 
naturally would be, she tried to find some- 
thing to do. 

Finally, she thought that she could 
amuse herself by watching the Saint at 
prayer, for there was a small corridor 
which connected the chapel with the villa, 
and which had a small window from which 
she could see all that happened in the 
chapel itself. So she crept slowly along, 
and putting her fair little head out of the 
opening, can you imagine what she saw? 

She saw the Saint, not praying, but 
comfortably seated on the altar steps eat- 
ing the chicken with his hands ! 

My mother says that she almost yelled 
with delight. She rushed down to her 
grandmother, and whispered excitedly 
into her ear: 

"Grandmama, I know who took the 
chicken!" 

"Sh!" said my great-grandmother, who 

[106^ 



MY MOTHER AND HER LAMB 

felt rather sensitive about her reputation 
of being extremely economical. Still, her 
curiosity was such, that she immediately 
took her grandchild into another room, 
and asked for an explanation. Then my 
mother triumphantly exclaimed : 

"Come and see for yourself, grand- 
mama. Come and see how well your holy 
man prays." 

My great-grandmother went quietly up 
through the little corridor, and looked out 
through the little window. Then she 
spoke to my great-grandfather, who, after 
having looked into the chapel, invited the 
bishop to do likewise. They all under- 
stood only too well why San Gennaro had 
insisted that nobody should enter the 
chapel while he was holding his commu- 
nion with God. 

My mother was given a basket of candy 
and fruit to distribute just as she liked 
among the peasant children. There was 

C1073 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

one condition attached to this gift, and 
that was that she should not tell what she 
knew about the Saint. 

The Saint mysteriously disappeared. 
The peasants thought that he had gone 
away on some holy mission, but the fact 
is, that the bishop got him quietly out of 
the way, for fear that if the truth con- 
cerning him were fully known, he might 
be stoned. 

The crosses were left standing, and no 
doubt serve their purpose for whoever 
prays before them with a simple, earnest 
heart. 

Other stories that my mother would oc- 
casionally tell us were quite as thrilling as 
the one about the Saint. Particularly in- 
teresting to us were those of her travels 
through Italy at the time of the brigands. 
Can you imagine anything more exciting 
than arriving at some lonely little inn at 
night, knowing that the place was not safe, 
C1083 



MY MOTHER AND HER LAMB 

because perhaps some rich foreigner had 
recently been murdered there; having to 
barricade your room so that if any one 
tried to rob you, you had a chance to pre- 
pare for self-defense ; or losing your way 
as you were trying to find the host so as to 
give him some orders, and getting into 
dangerous, forbidden quarters, where 
through a hole in the floor you could peep 
into mysterious subterranean vaults and 
see a post-chaise you recognized as that 
of some traveler who had recently been 
known to disappear? These must have 
been thrilling journeys, indeed, and com- 
pared to them, modern travels seem very 
tame. 



[109;] 



VII 

ON DISCIPLINE AND ITS RESULTS 



VII 

ON DISCIPLINE AND ITS RESULTS 

MY great-aunt used to tell me 
that as a child my mother was 
spoiled, and I believe this. If 
she had been brought up very strictly, she 
would never have brought up her children 
so strictly herself. Taking long walks, 
learning languages, bookkeeping, law, 
even beating the drum, do not constitute 
real hardships. 

I have a theory of my own on the sub- 
ject: which is that many things in life are 
the result of some reaction, and that in 
their children most people react against 
what they have suffered themselves. 
Now, I wish it distinctly understood that 
my mother really educated us. Nowadays 
few children are really educated. They 

CH3] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

are generally only allowed to grow up, and 
that is something altogether different. 

In a good many ways her pedagogical 
theories have been attended with success, 
and when we try to prove to her now 
where mistakes have been made, she legit- 
imately shrugs her shoulders and says — 
"Look at the result." The result satisfies 
her, and no further discussion is possible. 

Whipping constituted the main punish- 
ment, and sometimes the chastisement 
could better be called a flogging rather 
than a whipping. If we were naughty with 
the nurses, we were whipped. If we did 
not learn our lessons, we were whipped. 
But if perchance, and this happened very 
seldom, we handled the truth somewhat 
recklessly, we were flogged. We also were 
flogged if we in any way struck or other- 
wise abused an inferior. In the last two 
cases I think myself that the rod is justly 
used. Otherwise I sincerely disapprove 
[114] 



DISCIPLINE AND RESULTS 

of it. My childhood views on the subject 
are curiously enough preserved, and will 
find their place in the next chapter, be- 
cause they are, I think, of real pedagogical 
interest, as it is very rare that children 
write down their impressions and their 
point of view. 

Yet my mother occasionally invented 
punishments, and these were far more effi- 
cacious, and made a far more lasting im- 
pression than all the whippings in the 
world. I never was privileged to have 
any punishment worthy of being put on 
record. My oldest brother suffered in two 
famous instances which the family never 
forgot. 

He was a precocious infant; there is no 
doubt of that. He read Shakspere's 
"Julius Caesar" with fluency, intelligence, 
and pleasure at seven. He recited selec- 
tions from it. (And when my mother, as 
he was once showing off, remarked that he 

[115] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

shuffled his feet during his recital, and re- 
quested the governess to break this habit, 
she received the indignant reply : ' 'Madam, 
you cannot expect me to attend to his 
head and to his feet at the same time.") 
At nine he did well in Latin and Greek. 
At twelve he had composed comparative 
chronological tables of the history of the 
world. When, long before he was ready 
for it in years he was sent for awhile to 
the public Ginnasio, he organized an army 
of boys, of which he, the youngest, elected 
himself the general. But when I have 
said that he was very precocious, I sum 
up the situation. 

He was not, however, without faults, 
and, as a small boy, one of his great faults 
was whining. In vain my mother rea- 
soned with him, telling him that he had 
to be a man, that whining was not even 
allowed in little girls, much less in a big 
boy who already wore trousers. It did no 

Ci 163 



DISCIPLINE AND RESULTS 

good. If anything went wrong, Matthew 
would whine. 

My mother threatened: "If you don't 
stop whining, I '11 treat you like a girl." 

But Matthew continued to whine. If 
Totty or Alick displeased him, he would 
whine. If his lessons were too long, he 
would whine. If his clothes did not suit 
him, he would whine. 

My mother finally lost patience. One 
day she took him to the nursery, told 
the nurse to bring her one of my oldest 
sister's frocks, and, without giving Mat- 
thew the slightest chance to object, made 
him dress up like a girl from head to foot. 
Not one piece of dainty underwear was 
spared. Even his shoes had to be girls' 
shoes. 

His whining subsided to absolute 
silence. He was not compelled to go back 
to the school-room, and deeply humil- 
iated, he withdrew into the recess of a 
CH7] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

nursery window. As he was standing 
there, his back carefully turned to any one 
who might perchance come in — anxious, 
if he had dared, to disappear from view 
altogether — a mild little old woman, our 
family seamstress, chanced into the room. 

She did not know what had happened. 
Seeing the familiar red plaid of my sister's 
dress, she gently walked up to the dress, 
and caressing one sleeve lightly, said: 
"Miss Totty, are you ill? Are you not 
taking any lessons to-day?" 

The answer was an angry yell. My 
brother thought it had been a deliberate 
insult. He rushed past the astonished 
woman, fled into the garden, and hid 
among the trees. 

That broke him of whining. He never 
had to wear girls' clothes again. 

Another punishment remained more 
famous still. This I witnessed, awe- 
stricken, myself. 

DISH 



DISCIPLINE AND RESULTS 

A precocious infant has an active mind; 
an active mind involves thinking in every 
direction, and, for a child, thinking in 
every direction involves mischief, and 
mischief of a most unexpected kind. 
One of the most strictly enforced rules 
of our childhood was that we should have 
nothing to do with any of the servants ex- 
cept the nurses. Imagine, therefore, 
what a horrible thing it was when my 
brother (even if he did not know what led 
him to do it) actually went into the maids' 
bedroom, and hid under one of the beds. 
When the maids were dressing he leaped 
out with a yell, and they were frightened 
to death. 

When this was reported to my mother 
she was at a loss for a punishment. She 
must have known that we had grown hard- 
ened to whippings, and even a flogging 
did not seem enough for a misdemeanor 
like this. Then a brilliant idea came to 
[119] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

her. She found something that the family 
would never forget. 

She called my brother to her, and said : 
"I have always treated you like a boy and 
a gentleman, because I thought that was 
what you preferred, but if you prefer to 
live like a dog, why, by all means, we will 
let you live like a dog. You must admit 
that only a dog would crawl under a bed 
and bark the way you did. But if you 
want to be a dog, you must be one con- 
sistently whenever it is possible, and I 
shall see to it that every opportunity is 
given you." 

We were in the country then, and not 
only "the children," but even I, ate with 
my father and mother — at the table, of 
course. But this day, when we came into 
the dining-room, only three children's 
places were set. Matthew's place was set 
on the floor. My mother was inexorable. 
The butler placed his plate on the floor 



DISCIPLINE AND RESULTS 

before him, and every little while he would 
be cheered by my mother's remark: "I 
hope you enjoy living like a dog." 

This was done for three days. After 
that he was allowed to resume a normal 
life, but I know that he never hid under a 
bed again. 

Ritchie used to lose his temper, and 
when his temper was lost he would not 
reason. My mother impressed the unde- 
sirability of lack of reasoning on him in 
the following way : — 

She said: "If you want to say things 
that have no sense, all right, but first I 
want to see if I cannot cure you by an 
indigestion of senseless talk. You must 
go into the garden, stand straight under 
one of the big trees, and for one whole 
hour move your arms up and down, say- 
ing: 'Wooden shoes up, wooden shoes 
down — Wooden shoes up, wooden shoes 
down — Wooden shoes up, wooden shoes 

[121] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

down.' If this does not suit you, you can 
come to me and tell me you do not like to 
say things that have no sense." 

I must add that it did help Ritchie to 
control his temper, but he held out for an 
hour saying — "Wooden shoes up, wooden 
shoes down" — without giving in. 

When he was very, very little, not more 
than five, Ritchie got into the habit of 
saying — "If you won't let me do so and 
so, I '11 kill myself." 

My mother spoke to him very gravely, 
and said: "You have no right to kill your- 
self, because, till you are twenty-one, you 
are not your own master." 

Then Ritchie, with a peculiarly German 
exactness and conscientiousness, would 
say: "If you won't let me do so and 
so, when I 'm twenty-one I '11 kill my- 
self." 

Baby one day unexpectedly broke in 
with the remark: "Why, if you kill your- 
C122] 



DISCIPLINE AND RESULTS 

self when you are twenty-one, you are a 
thief." 

"Why am I a thief?" Ritchie asked in- 
dignantly. 

Then Baby with calm superiority ex- 
plained: "Because you '11 steal a soldier 
from the King." 

Baby, too, was precocious. He died 
when he was hardly four years old, and 
yet we all remember him as having a dis- 
tinct personality. 

My mother and the governesses did not 
understand Ritchie at all. He was a pas- 
sionate, yet extremely affectionate child, 
who needed tender care. No doubt, many 
times the governess was to blame when 
Ritchie got into a passion. As he grew 
older he did not say — "When I 'm twenty- 
one I '11 kill myself," but "I am going to 
run away." 

My mother then would say: "All right, 
run away; but your clothes are mine. 
C123] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

You came into your home naked, and 
naked you shall leave it." 

Then Ritchie would plead: "One little 
old pair of trousers!" 

"No," my mother would say, "it is not 
good for you to run away. I cannot let 
you have even one little old pair of trous- 
ers for such a purpose. You can have all 
the clothes you want, if you stay here." 

And Ritchie would plead: "One little 
old pair of trousers!" 

Though I was very little then myself, I 
saw nothing funny in this. The recollec- 
tion of those scenes hurts me to this day. 
I myself should never have argued about a 
pair of trousers, if I had intended to run 
away. I knew that running away was 
wrong, and that running away with a pair 
of trousers, even if they did not belong to 
me, did not make it much worse. I should 
never have argued the way he did. I used 
to feel like telling him so, but I never did, 

[124IJ 



DISCIPLINE AND RESULTS 

because I loved him very dearly, I hated to 
see him cry, and I did n't want him to run 
away. 

It was Ritchie, however, who finally 
best illustrated the glorious results of my 
mother's discipline. His chief fault was 
that he would interrupt any one whenever 
he had something to say. My mother re- 
peatedly told him: ''Ritchie, you must 
never interrupt me when I am talking. 
Wait till I have finished, and then say: 
'At your convenience, mama, I have some- 
thing to tell you.' Take time; learn to be 
polite!" 

One day toward the end of the season 
my mother had taken Ritchie and me to 
The Baths at Leghorn. The Baths are 
built in piers and rotundas into the sea (we 
have no tide at Leghorn) , and these piers 
are connected by bridges. Before the au- 
tumn storms begin the boards are taken 
away, so that only two long wooden beams 

P25] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

and the railings remain. There was abso- 
lutely no danger in walking across these 
bridges on the beams, as we could have all 
necessary support from the railings, and 
it was great fun for us to do so. 

Now, I had crossed one of these bridges 
quite a distance from where my mother 
and some friends were sitting in a group. 
I had walked around the rotunda, and had 
stood some time watching a man as he 
fished. But finally I grew tired of watch- 
ing, and just as I had left him, and was 
about to cross the bridge on the beam, he 
called to me, because he had caught a fish. 
I waited till the fish was safely landed, 
and then started to cross the bridge. But 
so interested was I in the man's success, 
that I forgot that the boards had been 
taken away, and walking on as usual, fell 
into the sea with a splash. 

Ritchie, who was standing by me, in- 
stead of taking the slightest concern as to 

C1263 



DISCIPLINE AND RESULTS 

what would happen to me, rapidly crossed 
the bridge, and ran to my mother. Taking 
off his cap, the little fellow stood politely 
beside her for some time, waiting till she 
had finished a rather long story she was 
just telling. Then he said: 

"Mama, at your convenience, I have 
something to tell you." 

"What is it?" said my mother approv- 
ingly, for she appreciated that he had 
finally learned to be so polite. 

"Mama, at your convenience, Lisi has 
fallen into the water." 

"What!" said my mother, jumping up. 
"Has any one pulled her out?" 

Then Ritchie calmly and politely said: 
"I don't know, but I did not interrupt 
your story — and she can swim!" 



C1273 



VIII 

A child's point of view 



VIII 

A child's point of view 

OFF and on when I was a child 
I kept a diary. Or perhaps I 
should not say that I kept a 
diary, but rather that occasionally I would 
set down in writing my reflections on peo- 
ple and things. A few sheets have been 
preserved. I had no elaborate books to 
write in, but sheets of foolscap paper that 
I had sewed together myself. No eyes 
but mine saw these writings. Even my 
brothers did not know of their existence. 
The language in which these diaries were 
kept varied. At certain periods I was 
fond of writing French, at other times I 
wrote English or Italian, and very seldom, 
though it was the language that I was 
most familiar with in writing, did I write 

[131j 



.4 TUSCAN CHILDH D 

German. English, as I have explained, 
was my first language. Italian was my 
native tongue, German was the language 
of the school-room, and French, I can say, 
I taught myself out of a spirit of contra- 
diction. 

I think that the Franco-German war has 
not yet been forgotten, and that the dis- 
like of the Germans for the French is still 
strong. It was very strong in our school- 
room, and. indeed, unreasonable. We 
had to learn French, because it scarcely 
could be omitted from our education, but 
it was a sorely neglected subject, and no- 
body cared whether we made progress in 
it or not. The result was that we grew 
to love to read, to write, and to speak 
French. My diaries show no careful train- 
ing. My agreement of words is some- 
thing wonderful and fearful, but I wrote 
along fluently, feeling that my govern- 
esses, had they known I wrote, would 
[132] 



A CHILD'S POINT OF VIEW 

have preferred me to write in some other 
tongue. I have never understood why a 
special rule was made in my behalf which 
forbade me to read the Bible in French. 
Since I only read it in time of recreation, 
and did not let it encroach upon my 
studies, I do not see how it could possibly 
be considered a misdemeanor because I 
happened to want to read the Word of 
God in French. But I was forbidden to 
do so. 

This may explain why certain pages of 
my diaries that are particularly rebellious 
are all in French. One little essay, writ- 
ten when I was not yet thirteen, bears the 
title, Apropos de battre les enfant (sic). 
As this title tells us, I aired my views upon 
corporal punishment for children. I shall 
give it in an almost literal translation, 
preserving the punctuation, which is 
curious. The comments in parentheses 
are added to the translation now. 
[13311 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

CONCERNING THE BEATING OF CHILDREN 

Last night we spoke of the Prince of Naples. 
My mother says that when he is naughty he 
should be whipped. I do not see how she can even 
have this idea. She said he was no more than an- 
other child. Comment done! Has my mother's 
royalism taken flight? It is true that he is just like 
any other child. He has two legs two arms a nose 
etc. etc. But will you make no difference between 
the child who should be brought up to command all 
the other children and all the other children who 
ought all to be brought up to obey him. And then 
strike the future King! Great God! I only ask if 
it is possible! The person of the King is sacred! 
It is absolutely impossible to strike the heir of the 
throne. Papa does not think as Mama does. But 
now about children in general. I do not think that 
boxing the ears at the right time can do any harm. 
But corporal punishment should be used with dis- 
cretion if not one gets used to it. There was a 
time when Mama whipped us for the least thing for 
the least little quarrel between us. After having 
been whipped in such a way that we kept the marks 
for many many days we began to quarrel harder 
than ever to decide who had cried least, and our joy 
knew no bounds if sometimes we had taken a 
whipping without wincing. And if we were threat- 
ened with a whipping we simply thought. Je ne 

C1343 



A CHILD'S POINT OF VIEW 

m'en mocque pas mal. [The equivalent of this in 
English would be "I do not care a snap of my fin- 
gers," though the French term is spicier.] Only 
then I did not say this in French for I did not 
speak French as much as I do now but the result 
is the same. But another point, is it permissible 
for a mother to strike her children in public? 

I think not. 

Twice my mother has struck me in public And 
... I have not forgotten it yet. Once it was 
before more than twenty persons of our acquaint- 
ance ! ! And do you want to know why. I was with 
a friend Blanch. My friend was speaking. My 
mother told us not to speak so loud. Blanch low- 
ers her voice, after about a quarter of an hour she 
had forgotten my mother's request and spoke just 
as loud as before. What does Mama do. She calls 
me to her and boxes my ears repeatedly saying 
"Ich werde dir lehren mir nicht zu gehorchen." "I 
shall teach you not to obey me." [This translation 
of the German sentence is in the original.] I did 
not expect them (the boxes on the ears) and I felt 
the blood mount to my face, and I leaned against a 
chair. It was so sudden but I controlled myself 
and I simply said Thank you Mama! — and I went 
back to my place. And my mother who turns to 
the lady sitting next to her saying "You see how I 
treat my children when they do not obey me." 
Everybody when they saw my ears boxed you 

[135] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

might say without any cause had exchanged 
glances. However since I had not rebelled but on 
the contrary I had taken everything so calmly the 
beau role remained to me and later when my 
mother was not there they tried to comfort me but 
I refused their pity through pride and perhaps 
through vanity. My father was traveling in France 
then or perhaps I might have complained to him. 
But I have not yet either forgotten or forgiven. 
Another time it was on the street coming home 
from The Baths. This time hardly any one saw it. 
Now this action has so much humiliated me being 
struck before so many people it was terrible for 
me. I think that for four or five days I hated my 
mother. That is why I think that to strike in public 
may have bad consequences 1. This time I had 
done no wrong and my mother committed an in- 
justice. 2. She awakened in me a thousand rebel- 
lious thoughts etc. etc. 

If I have not spoken of this to my father it is 
because I did not wish him to have more cares than 
he already has and I was sure that he would not 
have approved Mama. Besides I hope that when I 
have children of my own, if I ever have any, I 
will behave better. 



If all children wrote unreservedly their 
impressions about the punishments re- 



A CHILD'S POINT OF VIEW 

ceived, it would no doubt be a great aid to 
pedagogy. The extract quoted above is 
not remarkable for style, or a mastery of 
the language, though it is written fluently 
in a foreign tongue, but it surely is re- 
markable as a calm exposition of the im- 
pressions received on being justly or un- 
justly punished. There is no doubt in my 
mind that most children get hardened to 
corporal punishment, and that it is effec- 
tive only when it is used as an exception 
and not as a rule. 

About the same time I wrote another 
little essay, also in French, which bore the 
title: Moi et Louis XVII. 

I AND LOUIS XVII 

My brothers made fun of me because I love this 
unhappy little King so much. But I openly admit 
that I love him, that I admire him, that I adore 
him ! And you will see if I am not right ! Once I 
was ten or eleven years old. I had the whooping- 
cough. I had no governess. I was allowed to re- 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

main at home with the permission of going on 
The Baths where I did not find the most suitable 
company, or remaining at home where the com- 
pany I found was only novels — besides I had al- 
ready read altogether too much. You can imagine 
what I should have become ! Either I should have 
acquired the manners of a fisherman or I should 
have lost my head over novels. Once I remem- 
bered in reading the "Chevalier de Maison-Rouge" 
of Dumas that there was in Mama's library a book 
called "Louis XVII." I took it and I began to 
read. Against my habit I read slowly. I thought over 
almost every sentence I read. The charm of the 
little Prince struck me in the first volume. His 
courage, his martyrdom in the second. I put aside 
the novels and I took this book. All my thoughts 
centered on this one point. At night I dreamed 
about him. During the day I wrote poems to him. 
You laugh don't you? Perhaps you are right. 
Even on my religion the child-king has had a great 
influence. To see how this child in spite of bad 
treatment and all efforts to corrupt him always re- 
mained a good Christian and a good son made 
much more impression on me than the ancient and 
the new Testament. Simon asked him Capet what 
would you do if the Vendeans delivered you and 
he answers always remembering the last recom- 
mendations of his fathers / should forgive you. 
[This last sentence is underscored twice for em- 

C1383 



A CHILD'S POINT OF VIEW 

phasis.] After having been slowly tortured and 
seeing himself drawn step by step to the tomb he 
still forgives ! Another time his torturer wanted to 
oblige him to cry The Republic is eternal! But 
Louis XVII refuses with royal pride. They strike 
him, he cries out: don't you know that there is 
nothing eternal and at night Simon finds him weep- 
ing bitterly. Simon stops, the savage Republican 
cannot help being moved. The child goes up to 
his jailor and says sobbing: Forgive me. I was 
mistaken this morning when I said that there was 
nothing eternal, God is eternal but there is none 
but He who is so! Could anyone be more Chris- 
tian than he was? My object in religion was to be 
as good a Christian as he. What I admired still 
more was his filial love, and his gratitude. When 
after much suffering he had a jailor who was a 
little less cruel what did he ask for ! His mother. 
Dr. Naudin protected him against bad treatment 
he wished to thank him. He had nothing to give 
him, he kept a pear from his supper, what a poor 
gift for the King of France. The child gave this 
pear to the Doctor the old man found no words to 
thank him but a tear fell on the hand of the little 
Prince. And what are words compared to a 
tear. . . . Even on my instruction the child- 
king had his influence by continually composing 
poems and by writing I have progressed in my 
French and the desire to know more has awakened 

C139II 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

within me. I have asked Mama to give me French 
lessons. Mama has consented. Judge now if I 
am not right to love him. I hope that for my birth- 
day Mama will give me this book and I shall be 
as careful of it as I know how. 

He has awakened all my royalist sentiments 
therefore long live Louis XVII who makes me cry 
long live the King, the Queen and the Prince of 
Naples. I wish that everyone might have a Louis 
XVII for certainly many people would be happier 
than they are now. 

This requires an explanation. I have 
mentioned that when I was nine or ten 
years old one governess let me swallow 
German novels wholesale. Curiously 
enough once the fact had been established 
that I had read more novels than was good 
for me, instead of restricting my reading, I 
was practically allowed to read almost 
anything I liked, on the basis that I had 
read so much trash already that a little 
more, a little less, could not do me much 
harm. The influence of the book on 
Louis XVII (by Monsieur de Beau- 
[140;] 



A CHILD'S POINT OF VIEW 

chesne) has, indeed, been even greater 
than I realized at the time. Is it not 
curious, however, that a child should read 
novels with eagerness, and at the same 
time realize better than the adults evi- 
dently did how unwise such reading was ? 
I may also add that my own education 
during these years was somewhat neg- 
lected, principally because the financial 
condition of the family began to be most 
unsatisfactory, and while the studies of 
the boys, who had to be prepared for 
military school, could not be interrupted, 
something was saved by keeping no gov- 
erness for me. Again I was allowed 
novels so that I might keep busy and 
quiet. 



CHI] 



IX 

LEAVES IN THE STORM 



V 



IX 

LEAVES IN THE STORM 

ICTOR HUGO, in writing of him- 
self as a child, says : 



When the north-wind strikes the throbbing waves 
The convulsive ocean tosses at one time 
The three-decked ship thundering with the storm 
And the leaf escaped from the tree on the shore. 

We, too, were leaves in the great storm, 
the storm of the religious and political up- 
heaval in Italy, for our life began but a 
short while after Italy had been made one, 
while the country was still suffering in the 
efforts to adjust the old with the new. 

The religious phase of our life was most 
affected by this unsettled condition of our 
environment. It is here that the direct in- 
fluence of historical events shows most 

[145] 



.4 7" U S C A X CHI LDH O D 

clearly. A brie: account of our family 
history is necessary for a full understand- 
ing of the situation and certain incidents 
that I am going to relate. This history is 
not without poetical interest. 1 mav add. 
however, that whatever is known to me on 
the subject I have found out for myself. 
The reserve about anything that would 
have led us to be proud of our race and 
our position was almost ostentatious. 

The famous chronicles of Malaspini 
mentions the Cipriani among the sixteen 
families who founded Florence. Five of 
these families, including our own. were all 
agnates, and descended from Galigaio, a 
Roman patrician, who. the chronicles tell 
us, was a companion-in-arms of Julius 
C^sar, and assisted him in the Siege of 
Fiesole. 

The names of these five branches lend 
some probability to this Roman origin, 
though we, of course, know that during 
C146] 



LEAVES IN THE STORM 

the Middle Ages the nobility of central 
Italy took pride in descending from the 
Romans, whereas the nobles of northern 
Italy preferred to trace their descent back 
to the twelve peers of Charlemagne. We 
found out this presumed Roman origin by 
ourselves, and the fact that it v/as almost 
forbidden knowledge made us particularly 
delight in our discovery. 

Malaspini mentions our family some- 
times as Cipriani, and sometimes as Delia 
Pressa, a name which, by the way, is also 
given us in the modern Annuary. The Cip- 
riani were staunch Ghibellines and good 
fighters. Dante, under the name of Delia 
Pressa, in the Sixteenth Canto of the 
Paradiso, mentions us where he says: 
"The Delia Pressa already knew how it 
behooves to rule and in Galigaio's house 
the hilt and the pommel were already 
gilt." This passage, because it was in 
Dante, we, of course, knew. 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

When the Ghibellines were defeated by 
the Guelphs, the Cipriani were among 
those who preferred exile to humiliation. 
They would neither renounce their prerog- 
atives and enroll in a Guild, nor change 
their name. 

Thirteen Cipriani, history tells us, were 
captured by the Guelphs and condemned 
to death. Twelve of these escaped, and 
only one, Capaccio, remained in their 
hands. Perhaps the name (Capaccio 
means bad head) was fatal. He was be- 
headed on the Canto di Capaccio, that to 
this day bears his name, and is opposite 
the beautiful balcony of Palazzo dell' 
Arte della Seta, designed by Vasari. 

Then my grim Ghibelline fathers went 
into exile. One branch settled in France, 
but died out. The other settled on the 
Northern promontory of Corsica, Capo 
Corso, where our branch of the family re- 
mained till the beginning of the nineteenth 
[148] 



LEAVES IN THE STORM 

century, when my grandfather, Matteo 
Cipriani, came back to Italy. It was he 
who bought the villa at Leghorn, where 
we spent the happiest days of our child- 
hood. 

To this Corsican influence I trace cer- 
tain pronounced family characteristics, 
principally tenacity and endurance. The 
environment under which our race devel- 
oped during these centuries was, I think, 
a distinctly desirable one. We never be- 
came court nobility, and we were thus 
saved from the excesses to which the Eu- 
ropean nobles gave themselves up from 
the Renaissance to the French Revolution. 
Moreover, it endowed us with excep- 
tionally good physical constitutions, for 
the development of the body was in every 
way favored by the rough out-of-door 
Corsican life. 

The life we led during all these years in 
Corsica was no doubt primitive compared 

[1493 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

to the luxury that reigned at the French 
and Italian courts, and we remained very- 
near the Middle Ages. I can almost say 
that in our family we skipped the Renais- 
sance. 

When my grandfather returned to Italy 
the family, in spite of its long absence 
from Florence, resumed its place at once 
among the Florentine patricians. More- 
over, the marriages contracted by my 
aunts, and the daughters of another Cip- 
riani, who had returned to Italy at the 
same time my grandfather did, connected 
us by close family ties with Italians of our 
own rank. I do not think that my father 
ever realized that his family had just re- 
turned to Italy after an absence not of 
years, but of centuries. We children, of 
course, never felt this at all, though we 
were very proud of our Corsican connec- 
tions. 

My Ghibelline fathers went into volun- 
C150] 



LEAVES IN THE STORM 

tary exile. When they came back the 
struggle of the country against the church 
and the rulers the Roman Church sup- 
ported, had not ended. It is true that the 
Guelph and Ghibelline parties had long 
disappeared. It is true that no German 
emperor was upheld against the head of 
the church. But the ideal of Dante, of an 
Italian strong and free, untrammeled by 
the selfish bonds of the church and petty 
rulers, had lived on. 

It seems only poetic justice that when, 
after their long exile, these Ghibellines re- 
turned to the cradle of their race, they 
should successfully finish the task their 
fathers had begun. My uncles and my 
father all fought bravely and unselfishly 
for the freedom of Italy, and their party 
finally conquered. Italy became one. 
And the man who, as governor, first ruled 
the provinces wrenched from the Pope, 
the very provinces that a thousand years 

E1513 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

ago Pepin had granted, thus establishing 
the temporal power of the church — the 
man was my uncle. 

Am I not justified in seeing a grim 
poetry in this? The Guelphs conquered 
us; they pulled down our palaces, and 
leveled them to the ground, strewing salt 
over them; they drove us into exile, so 
that even women and children faced every 
hardship; and at last, after hundreds of 
years had passed, we came back and in 
turn conquered our conquerors. 

In 1859 my uncle was Governor of the 
Romagne. It was then, I think, that he 
and my father seceded from the Roman 
Catholic Church. In my father's case this 
was much more marked, because he mar- 
ried a Protestant, and decided to have his 
children brought up in their mother's 
faith, though curiously enough we were 
all christened in the Catholic Church. 
Personally I have always regretted this 
C152] 



LEAVES IN THE STORM 

secession, for I think that we would have 
been much happier if we had grown up in 
the same religion as our friends and rela- 
tives. 

The religious question was, therefore, a 
burning one in my childhood. Relatives, 
friends, servants, all were Catholics. My 
mother was a Protestant, it is true, but 
with her exception we met few Protest- 
ants, except the governesses and the 
tutors, and I confess that I antagonistically 
associated Protestantism with them. 

Our religious training was a curious 
one. They did not try to teach us what to 
believe, but rather instructed us carefully 
as to what we ought not to believe. We 
were told not to believe in saints, miracles, 
and relics. We were told that Catholicism 
stands for ignorance. This last state- 
ment, however, soon aroused grave doubts 
in my mind, since many of the persons I 
esteemed and admired most were Catho- 
C1533 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

lies. We were told that it was absurd for 
a priest to give absolution; that confession 
was an evil thing. And we listened in 
silence. 

I was the skeptic of the family. After 
having been told how many things I was 
not to believe, I learned to be ready to dis- 
believe any one and anything, even what 
my mother told me; not that I thought 
she lied, but I simply took it for granted 
that she considered it best to tell us just 
that, and I did not dispute her right to 
do so. 

I remember distinctly that one morning, 
when I was barely five years old, my 
mother sent for Ritchie and me. After 
having had our faces well scrubbed and 
clean pinafores put on, we were taken to 
her morning-room. Then she formally 
began our religious instruction. Up to 
this time I had only been made to learn the 
Lord's Prayer in English; and I rattled it 
[1543 



LEAVES IN THE STORM 

off with very little concern as to what it 
meant. This morning my mother told us 
that there was a God. She also told us 
that this God was perfect, all-powerful, 
and everywhere at once. This last seemed 
incredible to me, and so she explained 
that he was everywhere, and could see 
everything. No matter where a thing hap- 
pened he knew about it. This information 
she considered enough for the first lesson, 
and we were sent back to the nursery. 

It happened that this very day I saw 
Ritchie throw a little embroidered waist 
on the top of the mosquito-netting that 
hung around our little beds, and when 
the nurses were looking for the jacket and 
Ritchie vouchsafed no information, hav- 
ing perhaps forgotten what he had done, 
I thought the time had come for a con- 
clusive experiment. I thought I had my 
chance to prove whether this Protestant 
God they told me about was any better 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

than the scorned saints painted on the 
walls. 

I spoke no word while the nurses were 
hunting. I did not cry out, as I should 
have at any other time, "Ritchie hid it." 
No, indeed; I waited for the good Lord to 
tell. At night on drawing out the mos- 
quito-netting the little jacket was found. 
Then I informed the nurses I knew it was 
there. This led to the belief that I had 
hidden it there myself. I occasionally did 
hide things, and their suspicion was not 
altogether unjustified. But this time I de- 
clared that I had not put it there; Ritchie 
had done so, and it was unfair to punish 
me. They took me to my mother to be 
punished, for she inflicted all punishments 
herself, and there I burst into tears, and 
tried in vain to explain that I thought God, 
who saw everything, and could do any- 
thing he wanted, should have told the 
nurses himself. 

E1563 



LEAVES IN THE STORM 

My mother and the nurses did not un- 
derstand the situation at all. I was sev- 
erely punished, and left to my thoughts. 
As I have mentioned already, it was my 
habit to boil inside, so after having wiped 
my eyes, I took my punishment bravely, 
but I remained a skeptic in the bottom of 
my heart. 

This skepticism was all the more pro- 
found as I never expressed it, and it re- 
mained unsuspected and uncorrected. In 
a thoroughly skeptical spirit did I begin 
the regular study of Bible history when I 
was not yet eight years old. But there 
were complications. 

I had a governess then, the only one 
among many of whom I have an absolutely 
pleasant recollection, Fraeulein Anna, a 
charming girl of about twenty, who 
must have been an exceptionally good 
teacher. But — fate willed it — she was 
the daughter of a well-known German 
£157] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

socialist, who was an atheist. Though I 
heard the details about her life and her 
family only much later, when I was al- 
most grown up, yet even at the time I 
knew that her father was something ter- 
rible, a socialist who did not believe in 
God, and that she had been baptized with 
champagne. This did not shock me. In- 
deed, I connected it in my mind with 
the launching of a ship, a frequent festive 
event in the ship-yards at Leghorn, and I 
liked her all the better for not having been 
baptized with plain water like other com- 
mon mortals. 

Again you might say, "How could your 
mother, if she wished you to have any 
religion at all, trust you to the daughter 
of an atheist?" And I can answer, to be- 
gin with my mother's religion was a pas- 
sive one. She did not want us to be Cath- 
olics, but her real interest in religious 
questions seemed to end there. Besides, 
[158] 



LEAVES IN THE STORM 

Fraeulein Anna did not profess atheism 
herself, and she had been put in our 
house by the German Protestant clergy- 
man at Leghorn. He was a fine old man 
and my mother had great confidence in 
him. 

Fraeulein Anna was perhaps the only 
governess who did not attack Catholicism, 
but she did not go beyond this. She care- 
fully made me learn the Bible history. 
She made sure that I knew the names of 
the patriarchs and their sons, and that I 
did not confuse the deluge with the Tower 
of Babel. She was, in fact, the first one 
who taught me how to study, something 
for which I am grateful to this day. If I 
asked any questions, she answered the 
practical ones, and dismissed any that 
would have led to a theological discussion. 
With prompt kindness she would get a 
map, and, at my desire, show me the ex- 
act position of the Red Sea, but she had 
[159] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

nothing to say when I wanted to know 
why Eve should be punished for eating 
the apple before she had been taught to 
distinguish between right and wrong — a 
simple question, one which has puzzled 
many besides myself. 

Some points troubled me much. How 
could God make the world out of noth- 
ing? If he had even had a little grain of 
dust, he might have made it grow, but to 
make something out of nothing, and be 
everywhere at the same time; these were 
things I could not understand. With Eve 
I deeply sympathized. I reasoned that it 
was not fair play. If she knew what was 
right and what was wrong, she might be 
punished, but before she really knew that 
a thing was wrong, she did not deserve to 
be punished. This, of course, was in ac- 
cordance with our own nursery rules, for 
if we did anything we had been forbidden 
to do, the punishment was severe, but a 



LEAVES IN THE STORM 

first offense, when we could honestly say 
we did not know it was wrong, was always 
at least half- forgiven. 

If I dwell upon these details, it is not 
because I consider myself particularly in- 
teresting as an individual, but because I 
am convinced that my experience is that 
of many children who grow up in a rel- 
igion different from that of the people 
around them, especially if, for any reason, 
their religious interest is keen. Mine was 
great, and continued intense for many 
years. I do not think that my brothers 
and sisters troubled about religious ques- 
tions the way I did. They all, I think, 
found it easier to obey in the spirit and in 
the word. They were told that it was best 
for them not to be Catholics, and to be 
Protestants, and that sufficed. 

Three years passed after Fraeulein 
Anna first taught me Bible history. The 
governess whom I have already men- 

[161] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

tioned with particular dislike was with us 
then. As I have explained, she was al- 
ways arbitrary and often unreasonable. 
Moreover, she lacked even elementary 
tact. I did not respect her. Her attitude 
toward religious questions was such that 
in telling about them now I must expect 
to be accused of exaggeration. 

She encouraged my brother Alick to 
make fun of the priests. This was and is 
only too common in Italy among a certain 
set of people, and particularly among the 
men of the lower classes. To Fraeulein it 
may have seemed funny and new, but I 
thought then, and I think now, that it was 
absolutely inexcusable. 

She used to like to go to the Duomo at 
Pisa to listen to the beautiful music at 
vesper services. We children were not 
particularly musical, and in order to keep 
us from being bored, she had taught us to 
nickname the canons as they sat in their 

[16211 



LEA VES IN THE STORM 

seats in the altar circle. This, it seems to 
me, was all the worse, because we as 
Protestants should have been taught to 
respect the ministers of another religion. 
And, besides, merely the respect due old 
age made it wrong for us to nickname 
them according to their resemblance to a 
horse, or a dog, or a rabbit, or a fox, etc. 
So well trained were we not to complain 
of our governesses, that my mother did 
not know of this till years later. 

It was with this governess, Fraeulein 
Helene, that the climax for me came, and 
that I cast off both Catholicism and Pro- 
testantism, turning to the older faith that 
the Christians had crushed. One day I 
found an old piece of newspaper that con- 
tained the following item: — "Last night, 
under the influence of Bacchus, some sol- 
diers changed a temple of Venus into a 
temple of Mars. The police promptly in- 
terfered." 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

When a young reporter expressed in this 
flowery way the drunken brawl of some 
soldiers, he surely had no conception of 
how it would for years affect the inner life 
of a little Florentine patrician. 

Greek mythology was perfectly fam- 
iliar to us. In fact, playing the gods was 
one of our common games. We all had 
been given a name of some Greek god or 
goddess. An older boy, who occasionally 
used to play with us, was Jove; my sister 
Totty was Minerva ; Ritchie was Mercury, 
because he was constantly sent on er- 
rands; and I, to my bitter sorrow, was 
Proserpina. I protested with tears 
against this, because they had called a boy 
whom I detested Pluto, and even in a 
game I did not want to be considered his 
wife. But, as I have already remarked, 
childhood is cruel. "The children," being 
the oldest, had taken upon themselves the 
right of distributing the parts, and did not 
[164] 



LEAVES IN THE STORM 

care whether they spoiled my pleasure or 
not. When I appealed to my mother, her 
decision was : "Why, your not liking your 
husband makes your part all the more 
natural." And so I had to keep my 
name. 

Of course, we had been told that the 
Greek gods were no longer worshiped; yet 
the statement in print was absolute. I 
knew the words by heart — "Under the in- 
fluence of Bacchus, some soldiers changed 
a temple of Venus into a temple of Mars." 
The police had interfered because — be- 
cause, no doubt, the police did not wish 
the soldiers to worship the Greek gods 
any more than our governesses wished us 
to pray to the saints. The thing was per- 
fectly clear to me. I realized that once 
again knowledge had been withheld from 
us. The Greek gods still had their wor- 
shipers. 

As I thought the matter over my eager- 
£1653 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

ness to have the worship of the Greek 
gods openly established and not interfered 
with by the police grew greater and 
greater. 

I have forgotten to mention, in telling 
the family history, that Malaspini states 
that one of my ancestors married a grand- 
daughter of Octavian, the Emperor. Now 
follows my childish reasoning. If we 
descended from Octavian, the Emperor, 
through him we went back to Julius Cae- 
sar; from Julius Caesar we went back to 
^Eneas; from ^Eneas evidently we went 
back to Venus ; from Venus we went back 
to Saturn! When the Greek gods loom 
large again we, who actually had de- 
scended from them, would come into our 
own; and they that ruled us had kept us 
ignorant of this, just as they had kept us 
ignorant of other things concerning our 
family that we might justly be proud of. 
I longed for the time when I should be 

[166] 



LEAVES IN THE STORM 

grown up, and could bring about the open 
worship of the Olympians. 

For a long time my interest in this was 
keen, but as I never spoke about it to any 
one, finally I almost forgot the whole 
story. It only came back to me when 
many, many years after I came across the 
same trite expression in referring to some 
drunken soldiers' brawl. 

But I have not waited for the gods in 
vain. They have come to me in all their 
classical splendor, though not as I had 
looked forward to them as a child. In art 
and literature I have finally come to my 
own. They have opened a glorious new 
world to me, where I can find refuge 
whenever the modern, Protestant world 
seems too cold, too barren, too hard. 



[167] 



X 

TERESA AND THE CAT 



TERESA AND THE CAT 

ON the whole we were very obe- 
dient, and seldom broke the 
numerous rules and regulations 
of the school-room. But we were after all 
children, real children, and once in a while 
we fell from grace, which, of course, was 
not without disastrous consequences. 

My brother Alick, the best of us all, was 
the one who got into trouble most fre- 
quently. As his nurse expressed it, he 
did one thing thinking of the next, and it 
always implied mischief. It was Alick 
who kicked a hole in the wall under his 
desk. It was Alick who stuck his whole 
finger in the ink bottle, was scolded, cried, 
and wiped his eyes with the inky finger. 
They could not rub the ink out of him for 

C1713 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

several days. It was Alick who deliber- 
ately walked into the sea and sat down 
in the water to his chin, because he did not 
want to wear kilts. 

He wore a perfect Scotch suit, kilts, 
pouch, cap, pumps, and stockings reach- 
ing below the knee. In one stocking on 
state occasions he was allowed to put a 
real dagger. The dagger was Corsican, but 
everything else was truly Scotch, and came 
straight from England. When Alick was 
first promoted to trousers only one suit 
was made for him, and he was not ex- 
pected to wear it every day. It nearly 
broke his heart to be put back into skirts 
after having tasted of trousers, but his ob- 
jections were, as usual, of no avail. He 
was told that he would have to wear out 
his kilts. When he went out walking with 
the governess, and Matthew and Totty, 
and they reached the seashore, where they 
often were allowed to play in the sand, 
[172:1 



TERESA AND THE CAT 

Alick deliberately walked into the water 
and sat down. He had turned the matter 
over in his mind, and had reached the con- 
clusion that if he spoiled one suit a day, 
the time for him to wear trousers could not 
be postponed very long. 

Teresa, an old woman who helped in 
the kitchen, and a pet cat, once inspired 
Alick to a piece of mischief that later he 
heartily regretted. The old woman was a 
poor, ignorant, superstitious creature. 
The cat was a beautiful white Angora, 
with very long hair, a big fluffy tail, and 
forget-me-not blue eyes. It had been 

given us by Countess R , a great 

friend of ours. Count R was at the 

time on the special staff of King Humbert, 
and at royal request, he had brought a 
brother of our kitten to Rome for Queen 
Margaret. Our cat was, therefore, really 
a well-connected cat. 

Alick was standing in the garden when 
CHS] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

the old woman passed, and stopped to ad- 
mire the cat. She said in an admiring 
tone: "Signorino, what a beautiful cat. 
Sant Antonio bless it!" 

The blessing of Sant Antonio was 
necessary, for the Tuscans never admire 
an animal without calling his blessings 
upon it, nor do they ever admire a child 
without calling upon it the blessings of the 
Lord. We had been well drilled in this 
ourselves. When in our walks we stopped 
at the peasant houses the peasants usually 
showed us their oxen, and then we were 
expected to say: "Sant Antonio bless 
them!" And when we saw a baby we 
were also expected to say: "God bless it!" 
This in order to keep off the evil eye. It 
was I who made the never-forgotten break 
of looking at a baby, and sweetly saying : 
"Sant Antonio bless it," which, "the chil- 
dren" claimed, mortally offended the peas- 
ant. 

C1743 



TERESA AND THE CAT 

Alick should not have spoken with the 
old woman at all, much less should he 
have indulged in the opportunity of im- 
posing upon her superstitious credulity. 
But he disregarded rules and answered: 
"It is n't a real cat. We only call it so be- 
cause so rare an animal does not have a 
name of its own." 

"Why, Signorino, what is it?" 

"It is a cross between a white bantam 
chicken and a poodle." 

The woman looked in amazement. An- 
gora cats were unknown in the vicinity, 
and the blue eyes of ours had caused a 
good deal of comment. Besides, the cat 
was an exceptionally intelligent creature; 
it had learned to jump through hoops, 
stand upright, and in fact, perform a lot of 
tricks which popular tradition states cats 
can never learn, so, to a certain extent, the 
ground was prepared for my brother's 
statements. 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

"Moreover," Alick continued, "this 
creature is brother to the cat of the Queen, 
and you must not speak of it, or address 
it, as plain 'cat,' but always as Signor 
Gatto. You must never pass in front of it 
because it is an animal of royal blood, and 
if you ever do, they will throw you in jail 
at once." 

Our intercourse with the servants was 
so restricted that they may have looked 
upon us with a certain awe — distance is 
known to lend enchantment. This may 
account for the undue weight my broth- 
er's words had with the credulous old 
woman. The respect she afterward 
showed the cat was a source of great 
amusement to us children, and none of us 
undeceived her. Perhaps her fellow- 
servants were just as amused as we were 
and strengthened the poor old woman in 
her belief. It is not difficult to imagine 
that the men in the servants' hall thor- 

£17611 



TERESA AND THE CAT 

oughly enjoyed it when she asked them 
whether the Signorino was right when he 
said that the cat was a cross between a 
bantam chicken and a poodle. Tuscans 
have a sense of humor. 

One day my father asked to have din- 
ner served earlier than usual. The cook, 
who sought to obey, sent Teresa to the 
vegetable garden to get some fresh lettuce. 
A little iron gate led from the garden 
proper, upon which the kitchen opened, to 
this vegetable garden, and as Teresa was 
coming back with a basket full of lettuce, 
she found that "Signor Gatto" had estab- 
lished himself on the threshold of the gate. 
She was going to brush by in a hurry, 
when she noticed that my father was 
walking up and down in the garden 
smoking. Then she remembered my 
brother's recommendations, and tried to 
carry them out to the letter. "Signor 

Gatto," she said apologetically, "excuse 
[1773 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

me. I had not seen you. Will you please 
let me through?" 

The cat on hearing her voice filled the 
whole space of the little gateway, arching 
its back, putting up its tail and purring. 
Teresa most politely repeated: "Signor 
Gatto, will you please let me through?" 

The cat continued to balance itself on 
the threshold, and the woman in a more 
imploring tone: "Signor Gatto, will you 
please let me through?" 

By this time her voice had attracted my 
father's attention, and he stopped to watch 
her. This probably embarrassed her, and 
she grew excited. She pleaded more 
vehemently: "Signor Gatto, will you 
please let me through ? The Signor Gene- 
rale wants dinner earlier, and I am in a 
hurry. Signor Gatto, I beseech you! I 
do not want to offend you, but I really 
must get through. The cook will scold. 
Signor Gatto, I implore you! Will you 
C178] 



TERESA AND THE CAT 

please step aside. Dinner is going to be 
very late, and the Signor Generate will 
scold." 

My father, who evidently could not un- 
derstand the situation, and who, more- 
over, was absolutely lacking in a sense of 
humor, spoke to her with sharp impa- 
tience: "What on earth are you talking 
about?" 

Then she was terrorized. She thought 
that my father had noticed how she was 
going to brush by the cat, and that this 
might land her in jail. So she began in a 
wailing tone : "Signor Generate, I have al- 
ways said 'Signor Gatto,' and I have never 
stepped in front of the cat — I beg your 
pardon, I mean the Signor Gatto. I am a 
poor woman. I mean no harm. Surely 
you won't let me go to jail." 

My father succeeded in calming Tere- 
sa's fears, and making her give a con- 
nected explanation, which proved my 

C1793 



.4 T USC A N C H 1 1 D HOOD 

brother flagrantly guilty, not only of hav- 
ing talked with her, when it was distinctly 
understood that we should hold no con- 
versation with any of the servants, but 
also of having invented such a colossal 
whopper. (The English dictionary says 
that this word is colloquial, but it ex- 
presses exactly what I mean.) 

Alick got the soundest of sound whip- 
pings, but Providence had endowed us 
children with all the sense of humor she 
had saved from my father's make-up, and 
I am sure my brother felt that the whip- 
ping was a slight fee to pay for the fun we 
all got out of the story. The mere men- 
tion of "Signor Gatto" would for months 
afterward suffice to make us roar with 
laughter. I am sure that Southerners 
must know darkies capable of the same 
credulity as Teresa. 

Teresa went to Florence with us once 
when my sister was old enough not only 
[ISO] 



TERESA AND THE CAT 

to take charge of the household, but also 
to be interested in the elevation of the 
masses. Like my mother, she had theo- 
ries, theories which were put into practice 
with surprising results. 

My sister had made kitchen rules, and 
one of these was that the servants should 
once a week be allowed time to see the 
Florence galleries. She wanted Italy for 
the Italians, and she thought that when so 
many foreigners flooded Florence to see 
the old masterpieces, our servants should 
not be deprived of this privilege. The idea 
was a very good one in itself, for the 
sense of beauty and the artistic instinct 
of the Tuscan popolani is really remark- 
able, and deserves to be developed to its 
full. 

Our Teresa enjoyed her excursions ex- 
tremely. As a general thing she preferred 
going to churches and looking at the 
paintings of the saints. This she did quite 

C-181] 



.4 TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

independently of Mr. Ruskin's suggestion 
that religious art is the only true art. One 
morning, however, when my sister had 
allowed her to go on her artistic expedi- 
tion, with the understanding that she 
should be home at noon and help the cook 
with the luncheon, Teresa did not turn up 
at all. Lunch was over, and still she did 
not appear. The time passed, it was late 
in the afternoon, and still no Teresa. Fin- 
ally, about six o'clock, she arrived com- 
pletely worn out. 

This is the explanation of her delay: 
"Signorina," she said, "I have had the 
hardest day I have ever known. I did not 
go to a church this morning. If I had 
gone, I should not have had to pray so 
much. I went to the Specola, (the Floren- 
tine Museum of Natural History) and I 
thought I should never get through saying 
requiems." 

"Requiems!" said my sister in amaze- 
[182] 



TERESA AND THE CAT 

ment. "Why should you say requiems at 
the Specola?" 

"For the souls of those blessed dead, 
Signorina. I got into one room at ten 
o'clock, and I did not get through pray- 
ing for each one until afternoon. Then I 
started on the second room, and I could 
not finish there because they put me out. 
But I counted the remaining skeletons and 
prayed for them in a church." 

Teresa had been saying the prayers of 
the dead for every skeleton of an ape in 
the Natural History Museum at Florence. 
No doubt, some tourist going by made a 
note of it, and sometime the statement 
may appear in print that in Tuscany the 
popolani pray before the skeletons of 
monkeys. 



[183] 



XI 

THE FOUNDLING 



XI 

THE FOUNDLING 

A YOUNG boy, a foundling, became 
a member of our household for a 
L short sad while. My mother 
heard how he had been adopted by a Pro- 
testant couple in very humble circum- 
stances when he was still a mere baby. 
They had kept him like their own child, 
and had sent him regularly to the Walden- 
sian school, where he had been made 
much of as one of the most promising 
pupils. When he was twelve his foster- 
father died, and his foster-mother was too 
poor to provide for him. It was no un- 
usual thing to have such cases referred to 
my mother, and she was seldom appealed 
to in vain. 

She sent for the boy, little Poldo, and 
[187] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

his foster-mother. He was a fragile, most 
refined-looking little fellow, with a white 
face, and appealing dark eyes. If it is 
true that race gives a visible stamp, the 
boy surely was of gentle blood. The fos- 
ter-mother, who was a woman with plenty 
of common-sense and much natural dig- 
nity, told my mother that she did not wish 
for charity, but preferred to have the child 
put in a position to earn his own living as 
soon as possible. She explained that he 
had been offered an opportunity to go on 
with his studies, but she thought that sup- 
port might fail him at any time, and that 
he would then be left helpless, discon- 
tented, and unfit for work. She and her 
husband belonged to the working-class, 
and she thought that the boy would be 
happiest if no attempt were made to take 
him out of his own sphere, though he 
showed remarkable success in his school 
work and passionate love for his books. 
C188] 



THE FOUNDLING 

My mother was not only very chari- 
table, but also very enthusiastic, and some- 
what romantic in her methods of charity. 
The whole thing touched her deeply, and 
she laid out a plan of her own from which 
she promised herself the greatest satis- 
faction. With the foster-mother's joyful 
consent she engaged the boy, at a small 
salary, as a servant at our house. His 
work was to be almost nominal. He was 
to clean the silver, and help the butler wait 
on the table. It was agreed that this 
would be a temporary arrangement which 
in his financial straits would preserve the 
lad's self-respect, since the boy's keep and 
something over was to be provided. 

In her own mind my mother planned 
far beyond this, for she did not agree with 
the foster-mother as to the future of the 
child. She thought she would give him a 
short trial on the present plan, and if he 
proved himself deserving of all the praise 
[189] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

that his teachers at the Waldensian school 
had given him, she would let him share 
lessons with my brother, who was just of 
the same age. His future after that could 
easily have been provided for, but before 
deciding anything she wanted a chance to 
study the child, and see whether it was ad- 
visable to lift him out of his present 
sphere. 

My mother's plan was very wise in 
some ways. The child belonged, by posi- 
tion, absolutely to the lower classes, so 
that she could not expect him to feel humi- 
liated by temporary association with our 
servants. She knew, of course, that ab- 
solute equality with my brother was a 
practical impossibility, and she thought 
that the little orphan would be far more 
contented if he came to the school-room 
after a few days of merely relative hard- 
ship. If she found out that it did not 
seem best to give him a higher education, 
C1903 



THE FOUNDLING 

she intended to place him in a manual 
training-school, where he might learn a 
good trade. 

The boy was extremely bashful, and 
scarcely answered my mother's questions. 
He hung his head and blushed. When 
she asked him directly whether he was 
satisfied to come and help Gigi, the butler, 
he did not answer at all, and his foster- 
mother took it upon herself to answer 
affirmatively for him. But even if the 
child had had the courage to tell my 
mother that he did not want to come, she 
would scarcely have listened to him, since 
the arrangement was not to last. And be- 
sides, in matters of education, even the 
wishes of her own children had no weight. 
She thought, however, that the child 
might feel homesick, and bade his foster- 
mother come and see him frequently for 
the first days. 

The woman and the boy went home, 

[191] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

and only there did the child, in a tempest 
of grief, show his sorrow at having, as he 
thought, to give up all dreams of an edu- 
cation, and become a common servant. 
His foster-mother, though she loved him, 
did not understand him at all, and did not 
sympathize with him. She had been a 
lady's-maid herself before her marriage, 
and did not consider it a disgrace to be a 
servant. 

The next day little Poldo entered upon 
his duties. The servants tried to be kind 
to him, but he was so bashful, and so 
silent, and showed so little appreciation of 
their advances that after having seen to it 
that he got plenty to eat, they left him to 
himself. It amused them very much be- 
cause after dinner he got out his books 
and began to read and study. He evi- 
dently had the making of a student and a 
religious enthusiast. He had associated 
closely with one of the younger teachers 
[192] 



THE FOUNDLING 

in the Waldensian school, and was so pre- 
cocious that he must have been very much 
of a companion to his elder friend. He 
undoubtedly had heard a good deal about 
the ignorance and the superstition of the 
Roman Catholics, and, poor little fellow, 
he felt altogether superior to our servants. 
After a few days he went so far as to try 
to convert them, and this slightly awoke 
their antagonism and separated him from 
them more and more. 

My mother had told us about her plan, 
and we were wildly enthusiastic over it, 
for to have a foundling in the school-room 
seemed like a chapter out of a story-book. 
What did not suit us as well was the strict 
orders not to play with him, indeed, not to 
speak with him until we received my 
mother's permission, and that was not to 
be for full two weeks. My brother already 
looked upon Poldo as his exclusive prop- 
erty. We all thought of scarcely anything 
[1933 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

else, and our imagination soon took its 
usual long flights. We were quite sure 
that in time it would be discovered who his 
father and mother were. We generously 
made him the son of some prince or some 
duke, and while we did not desire any ma- 
terial reward, we felt what a triumph it 
would be when the whole world would 
know that we had taken care of him at a 
time when he scarcely had enough to eat. 
Meanwhile the object of these plans 
and these discussions wandered about, an 
unhappy, lonely little figure, with nobody 
to speak to, feeling the loss of his older 
friend, the teacher, and of his companions 
in school, most bitterly. If I add that we 
had a beautiful garden, and that at play 
hours he could see us running by and hear 
us shouting in our play, while he was left 
all by himself to walk around the kitchen 
and in the vegetable garden, the pathos of 
the situation is made only too clear. 



THE FOUNDLING 

After a week the strain upon the boy 
began to show. His eyes had grown 
larger, and his little face had grown whiter 
and thinner. The servants who observed 
this tried to be kind to him, and to cheer 
him up. They even offered to listen to his 
religious instruction, but it was in vain. 
The little fellow would have nothing to do 
with them. He seemed so unbearably un- 
happy that they told my mother about it. 
She sent him at once to spend Sunday 
with his teacher at the Waldensian school. 

He came back a little brighter, but this 
brightness soon passed away, and when 
they told my mother that he could be 
heard sobbing half the night, she decided 
that in the shortest time in which suitable 
clothes could be provided, she would take 
him out of the servants' quarters, and let 
him start work with my brother. It was 
for the child's own sake that she did not 
wish him to wear his livery. She felt that 
[195 3 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

he was unfitted to be a servant, and she 
wished him to get his chance to show him- 
self worthy of an education before she put 
him in the manual training-school. 

My mother then sent for Poldo's foster- 
mother to talk the matter over with her, 
and here she met with unexpected resist- 
ance. She finally almost overcame the 
woman's objections that the boy would be 
made unhappy if he were raised out of 
her own station in life and that he would 
in time learn to look down upon her. This, 
of course, was not quite unjustified, for 
the child showed a decided tendency, even 
with the servants, to consider himself bet- 
ter than the rest. My mother felt sure 
that she could convince the woman to let 
Poldo have his chance with us, but since 
the latter's objection was so strong she 
also thought it best not to speak with the 
boy until she had his foster-mother's full 
consent. 



THE FOUNDLING 

Meanwhile Poldo was wretched. He 
evidently was a morbid, excitable child 
whom circumstances had made abnor- 
mally sensitive. The very evening when 
my mother had given orders for his new 
clothes and had talked the matter over 
with his foster-mother, a curious discussion 
arose in the kitchen which brought the 
pitiful episode to a tragic end. They got 
to speaking of thefts, and old Gigi, the 
butler, boasted of how nothing would 
ever induce my father and mother to 
doubt his honesty. 

This was practically true, and old Gigi 
had tested their faith in him. A few 
years before burglars had broken into the 
house in order to steal our silver. They 
were as unprofessional as the burglars 
who broke into my great-grandfather's 
villa. They left the solid silver, which 
was only marked, but otherwise perfectly 
plain, and took the plated silver, cristofle, 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

as we called it, which was far more ela- 
borate in design. When the police came 
to investigate, Gigi was closely ques- 
tioned. 

"Did you hear anything during the 
night?" asked the police inspector. 

"Yes," was the respectful but guarded 
answer. 

"What did you hear?" 

"I heard as though somebody were 
opening and closing drawers." 

"What did you think it was?" 

"I thought it was the cat." 

Nor could Gigi be brought to make any 
statement beyond this. What saved him 
was my father's absolute confidence and 
the fact that he knew the difference be- 
tween the solid silver and the cristofle too 
well to admit that he could have had any 
hand in the theft. His explanation of his 
answer was characteristic: "I did not wish 
to compromise myself." He thought that 
£ 19811 



THE FOUNDLING 

throwing the responsibility on the cat was 
the safest way. 

By the way, our burglars seem to have 
been endowed with unusual sentiment, for 
when these particular ones were caught 
and questioned as to why they took the 
cristofle and left the solid silver, they said : 
"Those other knives and forks looked so 
plain, we did not think they were any 
good, and the Signor Generate had always 
been so kind to us that we wished to leave 
him something with which to eat his 
breakfast." 

But to come back to my story. The dis- 
cussion as to what would happen in case 
anything of value was stolen became gen- 
eral, and finally one of the men, merely to 
tease Poldo and without any malignant 
intention, told the boy: "Well, if anything 
is stolen the blame will fall on you." 

"But why?" asked the little fellow. 

"Because you always are poring over 
[199] 



.4 TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

books, and that teaches people a lot of 
wicked things. It is not good for any one. 
Really good servants do not even know 
how to read and write. All this knowledge 
makes anarchists and thieves." 

Then the little fellow became excited 
and the others egged him on in mere fun. 

The next morning Poldo's little bed was 
untouched and empty. My mother sent 
at once to the home of his foster-mother, 
but he had not been seen. He had not 
gone to the Waldensian school either, and 
when the police were notified they could 
find no trace of him. 

Several days later the waves of the 
Mediterranean washed his little body to 
the shore. In his pocket was found a let- 
ter addressed to his friend and teacher, in 
which he said how he could bear it no 
longer, because as he saw us playing 
around in the garden and passed the 
school-room and saw us at work, he real- 

C200I1 



THE FOUNDLING 

ized what a child's life might be. And he 
added: "Now if anything is stolen, I will 
be taken for the thief merely because I 
love my books and they think that ser- 
vants should not even know how to read 
and write." 



C201] 



XII 

mama's ravens 



M 



XII 

mama's ravens 

Y grandfather was consul-gen- 
eral at Leghorn for many years, 
and even long after his death it 
remained the custom that any stray Ger- 
man in any kind of need should be di- 
rected to us for relief. Sometimes these 
Germans would come with recommenda- 
tions from the consulate, or from the Ger- 
man Protestant clergyman, but many 
times they simply got casual directions 
from some native who knew that they 
would be kindly received at our house. 
And often some German wandering ap- 
prentice would come to us for a square 
meal. My mother always saw them per- 
sonally and with real pleasure, for it 
C2053 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

brought her back to the days of her child- 
hood. We children felt rather antagon- 
istic toward the German element as a 
whole, and this because, as I have said, we 
were not always on the best footing with 
our German instructors. We found out 
that, as a rule, my mother's kindness re- 
ceived but poor appreciation, and that the 
people who had been cared for were never 
heard from afterward. We, therefore, re- 
vengefully called these proteges "Mama's 
Ravens." This shows that we were not 
always good, and that we had been drilled 
in Bible history. 

The greater number of the Ravens were 
German governesses, whose pathetic ex- 
periences would fill a volume. 

Once, for instance, in the time of the 
Grand Duke, my mother received a letter 
from a young German woman, who 
claimed that she was held a prisoner in a 
Jewish family. The letter was smuggled 
C206] 



MAMA'S RA VENS 

out of the house by the water-carrier, who 
took pity on the young girl. 

My mother went immediately to inves- 
tigate the case. The Jews refused her ad- 
mittance, and indeed, any kind of infor- 
mation. My mother, as I think my read- 
ers have already found out, was a woman 
of quick action. She considered that to 
treat the matter in an official way through 
the German Consulate would mean a long 
delay, so she went direct to the Grand 
Duke, and asked him for two carabinieri, 
who might assist her in her mission. The 
Grand Duke granted her request over the 
heads of all military authorities. 

Imagine the dramatic effect produced 
by my mother, a small, slender, stylish 
young woman, as she again presented her- 
self, flanked by two carabinieri, and de- 
manded the immediate release of the 
young German. The Jews yielded at 
once. 

[207] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

Yet even this girl proved a typical 
Raven, for, after she had been rescued 
from a position which was not only try- 
ing, but dangerous — after she had been 
kept as a guest at my mother's home until 
she found suitable employment — she was 
never heard from again. 

The fact that there was no restriction on 
our intercourse with these Ravens when 
my mother took them in to roost, gave us 
an intimate acquaintance with their char- 
acter and habits. We grew to know them 
very much better than our Italian servants, 
with whom intercourse was very much re- 
stricted. 

In my time, when I was about fourteen, 
my mother heard of a German governess 
who had come to Leghorn to take a posi- 
tion in a Jewish family. Upon her arrival 
she found that she would have to sleep in 
a room with seven Jewish youngsters, and 
that, moreover, the most menial work was 
n208] 



MAMA'S RAVENS 

expected of her. She fled in dismay. She 
was penniless and spoke no word of 
Italian, and but little French. The Ger- 
man clergyman reported the case to my 
mother, who at once asked the woman to 
come and stay with us till she was pro- 
vided for. This is how Fraeulein von 
Fetzen joined our household. 

Fraeulein von Fetzen was at least forty ; 
she was tall and angular; she had a mass 
of false hair on the back of her head, and 
her front hair was dyed. We children 
discovered this as soon as hot weather set 
in, for — the dye would run. 

In her own eyes, the most important 
thing about her was the little particle von, 
which put her in the ranks of the nobility 
and, according to her, established the 
privilege of meeting us children on equal 
grounds. 

This Raven took much trouble to claim 
a privilege which nobody disputed, for we 
£2091] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

poor youngsters met our governesses on 
a footing in which the superiority was all 
on their side. Social distinctions were not 
even discussed in the school-room. We 
were treated with great simplicity, and al- 
ways called by our first names. 

It was a great delight to us, therefore, 
when Fraeulein von Fetzen began to give 
us our full name with the addition of the 
particle von, which is not Italian. What 
we quixotically objected to, however, was 
the contemptuous way in which she ad- 
dressed our governess, Fraeulein Schmidt, 
a pretty creature who had won our hearts, 
simply because she had no claim to the 
particle von. 

Fraeulein von Fetzen had another 
weakness which amused us beyond words. 
She thought herself young and beautiful. 
Now, forty is not a decrepit age in itself, 
but it does seem terribly advanced to 

C210] 



MAMA'S RA VENS 

youngsters in their early teens. Moreover, 
she was absolutely homely. 

Not less characteristic was her convic- 
tion that her charms were dangerous. She 
confided to Fraeulein Schmidt that she did 
not like to have too much to do with my 
brother Alick, who was already sixteen, 
because she thought it might disturb his 
peace of mind. And this absurd woman 
could not see that Fraeulein Schmidt, 
who, as I have said, was as pretty as a pic- 
ture, quite unwillingly had herself dis- 
turbed my brother's peace of mind, and 
that, though she did not confide this to 
Fraeulein von Fetzen, she and all of us 
were well aware of the fact. Since Fraeu- 
lein Schmidt had no von to her name, 
Fraeulein von Fetzen thought that she 
was a negligible quantity, and she made 
this emphatically clear on all occasions. 

Luncheon was a merry meal for us in 

1:2113 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

those days, because my father and mother 
were never present, and we could speak 
as much as we liked without asking per- 
mission to do so. Moreover, at dinner in 
my father's presence we spoke Italian, and 
this debarred Fraeulein von Fetzen from 
any share in the conversation, while at 
lunch she could make up for lost time, 
keeping us in roars of laughter. Fraeu- 
lein Schmidt was not a disciplinarian, and 
this gave us a chance to breathe and be 
happy. 

One day I asked Fraeulein Schmidt: 
"Fraeulein, why have you never mar- 
ried?" 

"Because nobody has ever wanted 
me," she answered with a merry laugh. 

I was mischievously conscious that 
Fraeulein von Fetzen expected to receive 
the same question next, but I would not 
ask it. She, however, volunteered the in- 
formation: "I cannot say that I am in the 
n2123 



MAMA'S RA VENS 

same position. Seven men asked me in 
one year." 

We raised a howl of protest. 

"Fraeulein von Fetzen, you relentlessly 
sacrificed the happiness of seven men?" 

"Do you ever expect to go to Heaven?" 

"Were none of them noble enough for 
you?" 

After this I got into the bad habit of 
discussing love and marriage with Fraeu- 
lein von Fetzen. My mother, of course, 
was utterly unsuspicious of the pernicious 
influence her beloved Raven was having 
on her second daughter. Fraeulein von 
Fetzen told me in detail about her seven 
admirers, none of whom she considered 
sufficiently noble to be worthy of her 
hand. I, who had no personal experi- 
ences, would in turn tell her wonderful 
stories about personages that existed only 
in my imagination, but that interested 
Fraeulein von Fetzen tremendously, be- 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

cause I gave them high-sounding names 
and titles. 

Fraeulein von Fetzen was also very- 
curious, and questioned me closely as to 
family connections and family affairs. 
This led me into temptation. 

We had a very beautiful marble bust of 
an uncle of mine who had died young. 
Fraeulein von Fetzen showed more than 
usual inquisitiveness in asking me all 
about him. I cannot explain to this d,ay 
what possessed me to make up a long and 
connected story, in which there was no 
word of truth, though I fully understand 
how Fraeulein von Fetzen's breathless in- 
terest led me to indefinitely continue and 
elaborate it. 

I told her: "Fraeulein, that is my fa- 
vorite uncle. We say he is dead, but he is 
not. It is one of those family tragedies 
which, as you say, every real noble family 
must have. If you swear to me on your 

[214] 



MAMA'S RA VENS 

honor as a true member of the German 
nobility, that you will never breathe a syl- 
lable to any one of what you hear, I will 
tell you all about it." 

Fraeulein took her oath. 

Then I continued: "You see this uncle 
of mine used to live in Corsica. He was 
engaged to a most beautiful young girl, 
the daughter of a duke. [By the way, 
Corsica has no dukes.] One day, after 
having been out hunting, he went to the 
castle of his fiancee. As he arrived she 
was standing on the broad stairs of white 
marble. He came up and in fun pointed 
his rifle at her, saying: 'I am going to kill 
you.' The rifle was loaded, though my 
uncle did not know it, and a ball went 
straight through the heart of the beautiful 
girl, who fell dead on the white marble 
steps, staining them red with her blood. 
Fraeulein, it upsets me too much to give 
you the details of the tragedy, and I shall 
[215] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

simply tell you that my uncle was broken- 
hearted, and that he became a monk in a 
Certosa convent, where they never see 
any one, where they are under a vow of 
absolute silence, and where they count as 
dead." 

Then I continued describing graphically 
how these monks are never allowed to 
speak except when they pass each other 
and say in a low muffled tone: "Brother, 
we must die." Fraeulein von Fetzen was 
a Roman Catholic, and this part of my 
narrative appealed to her particularly on 
that account. 

I had impressed it upon Fraeulein that 
if it were discovered that she knew our 
family secret, they might "try to get her 
out of the way." Fraeulein had very ro- 
mantic, unsound views about Italy, and I 
took undue advantage of this. 

My uncle, the Certosa monk, became 
our favorite subject of conversation, and 

C2163 



MAMA'S RAVENS 

Fraeulein von Fetzen continued to be an 
eager, interested listener. My stories were 
beginning to give out when a luminous 
idea came to me. I began to write a series 
of love letters, which I claimed had been 
exchanged between my uncle and his 
fiancee, and which I got from the family 
archives. As my father was not the head 
of the family, this was a "whopper" 
worthy of my brother Alick. We had no 
family archives. 

I knew that my story and my letters 
would meet with general disapproval, and 
that there was nobody in the family, from 
my mother to my youngest brother, who 
would countenance this sort of thing, or 
see anything excusable in my perform- 
ance; so I kept my own counsel, enjoyed 
my fun all by myself, and continued to 
elaborate the correspondence between Ri- 
conovaldo, the fictitious name for my 
uncle, and Rosmonda, his sweetheart. 

[217] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

But I was not to enjoy this long. My 
brother Alick came across a few of the let- 
ters addressed to Riconovaldo. He was 
shocked and horrified. Of course, with- 
out explanation it was pretty hard to un- 
derstand what they actually stood for. 
His conscience compelled him to bring the 
matter before my mother, and my mother, 
after hearing all about it — gave me the 
last actual whipping I ever had. 

Fraeulein von Fetzen was one of the 
very worst specimens of "Mama's Rav- 
ens." She was ignorant, and her ignor- 
ance was only equaled by her conceit. She 
was inquisitive and indiscreet. With all 
her false pride, she was an outrageous 
beggar, and always wheedling trifles from 
us children and from our governess. 

It is characteristic of our whole system 
of education that we should be so un- 
guardedly intrusted to the hands of for- 
eigners, simply because they were for- 
C2183 



MAMA'S RA VENS 

eigners, while such care was taken when 
we came into contact with natives. I feel 
strongly on the subject, because even to- 
day it affects the education of so many 
children of the higher classes in Italy. 

While in our relations with our Italian 
dependents the best side of our character 
was appealed to and brought out, (I could 
quote numerous instances of childish un- 
selfishness and generosity which my 
brothers and sisters showed) these "Rav- 
ens" often led us to do things which were 
far from commendable, and for which 
they were actually more responsible than 
were we. 

Fraeulein von Fetzen had a mania for 
relics. She found out that Fraeulein 
Schmidt had been in Spain, and that her 
former pupils had given her several very 
beautiful silver medals of Saints. Since 
Fraeulein Schmidt, like ourselves, was 
Protestant, Fraeulein von Fetzen thought 

[2193 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

that the relics should be hers by right, and 
she kept asking for them. Moreover, her 
request was made with irritating condes- 
cension, for, as I have said, she did not 
consider Fraeulein Schmidt her equal. 

She also teased us to find out whether 
we had any relics in the family that we 
could spare, for, she argued that since we 
were Protestants, we had no use for them, 
and she might just as well get the benefit 
of them. 

She finally suggested to me whether I 
could not find some relics for her in the 
famous archives. When I told Fraeulein 
Schmidt and the children about this, 
Fraeulein Schmidt, who had altogether too 
much fun in her to be a model governess, 
said : "Why don't you make a relic for her 
yourself? Surely that would n't be too 
hard." 

My sister took the idea up enthusiast- 
ically, and between us we made a relic 
[220 3 



MAMA'S RAVENS 

which might have deceived a more intel- 
ligent person than Fraeulein von Fetzen. 
We took a piece of parchment from the 
cover of some old book; we made extra 
stains on it with rust and lemon-juice; 
then we made up a long sentence in which 
the words were taken from Italian, Span- 
ish, Latin and French, and were jumbled 
together in such a way that if they ever 
fall into the hands of some Romance 
philologist, he will be sorely puzzled. In 
this jargon we said approximately: 
"Fraeulein von Fetzen, with her von, is a 
goose. She has shamefully begged for a 
relic and now she gets it. May it do her 
the good she deserves." 

Then we took some of my hair, singed 
it, and sealed it on with sealing-wax which 
we impressed with a seal we had most in- 
geniously made for the purpose out of 
hardened clay. 

As soon as we had finished, we brought 
[221] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

the relic triumphantly to Fraeulein von 
Fetzen, telling her that we had got it out 
of the family archives at the risk of our 
lives almost, for it had been in the family 
a thousand years; we recognized that 
since we were Protestants, the relic would 
be best in the hands of such a true mem- 
ber of the nobility as herself, and we in- 
trusted it to her, if she were willing to ful- 
fil the necessary conditions. 

The most important of these conditions 
was, that for the first three weeks she had 
this relic she should recite her beads be- 
fore it at least three times a day. If she 
did not, the greatest calamity would fall 
upon her house, for it was on these condi- 
tions only that the relic could ever change 
hands, even in the same family. 

We also told her that the relic itself 
consisted of a lock of hair of Saint Law- 
rence, which had been taken from him 
when he was being roasted on the grid- 
[222 3 



MAMA'S RAVENS 

iron, just before he asked to be turned 
over, because one side was done, and that 
the singeing proved the authenticity of the 
relic. 

Fraeulein von Fetzen accepted our 
present with the greatest glee. Her con- 
science was not in the least disturbed by 
the fact that, according to our statement, 
the relic had been taken from the family 
archives without my parents' knowledge 
and consent. 

My mother found out about all this 
much later, and was very indignant. I 
myself by no means relate it as a joke. 
We were very young, and this constitutes 
our main excuse. It would have been 
better for us to have grown up with a 
superstitious belief in relics than to have 
mocked the faith of others, no matter what 
their weakness might be. I may add here 
that in time a reaction against this very 
levity, shown by our foreign instructors on 
[223 3 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

religious subjects, set in, and that it al- 
most led us back to the church of our 
fathers. 

Fraeulein von Fetzen left us after hav- 
ing stayed with us many weeks. Like a 
true raven, she flew away and never was 
heard from again. 



[224] 



XIII 

MY POPOLO 



E 



XIII 

MY POPOLO 

EXCEPT in summer at the Baths, 
we had very little to do with other 
children. When we went out walk- 
ing we were expected not to stop and con- 
verse with any one. Other children occa- 
sionally called upon us with their parents, 
and we would accompany our father and 
mother when the call was returned. These 
children scarcely entered into our life. 
Some of them I have met, as far back as 
I can remember, about once a year. We 
called one another by our first names, and 
said "thou," but the intercourse between 
us was a formal one and ended there. 

It was not until I was thirteen that I 
made the acquaintance of a family of 
children who became my intimate friends. 
[227] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

The friendship established between us has 
never been disturbed nor diminished. My 
governess knew their governess, and it 
was thus that we first met. There were 
five girls and one boy, the oldest girl being 
of my own age. 

They were charming children, and even 
under ordinary circumstances I should 
have enjoyed being with them, but it so 
happened that they took a great fancy to 
me, and it soon grew to a boundless 
admiration. They invested me with un- 
limited authority. Whatever I said was 
law. 

I have stated that I came in the middle 
of my own family, and consequently did 
not count for much. To find myself 
looked up to, flattered, blindly obeyed, 
was a most delicious experience, and, I 
may add, one which did me an infinite 
amount of good. No doubt the children 
of Poggiopiano (Poggiopiano was their 
C228] 



MY POPOLO 

country-place) exaggerated my good 
qualities, but I am sure that they drew out 
the best in me, and that I showed to them 
sides of my nature which nobody else has 
known. 

Their devotion to me was a source of 
amusement to all the grown-ups in both 
families, and this is not surprising. After 
my first visit to their house, they tied a 
little white ribbon to the chair I had sat 
upon, and this chair was used by the chil- 
dren in turns, and under no consideration 
was any one else allowed to sit upon it. 
This alone would have been enough to 
make grown-up people smile. My father 
nicknamed them my Popolo, thus graphi- 
cally summing up the relation between a 
ruler and a beloved people. 

To my surprise and delight their mother 

finally persuaded mine to let me visit at 

Poggiopiano. I had never been allowed 

to visit my own relatives even. Indeed, 

[229 3 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

that very summer an invitation to visit 
some cousins had been refused, my mother 
saying that she would never let us go any- 
where without her. The unexpectedness 
of my mother's consent made my delight 
all the greater. 

Poggiopiano proved to be an earthly 
paradise to me. My being a few months 
older than Giulia, the oldest of the chil- 
dren, put me, in age at least, at the head. 
Besides, to be granted absolute power, to 
have every whim obeyed, was really in- 
toxicating. I admit that the greatest 
charm of my visit at Poggiopiano lay in 
this undisputed sovereignty, which, how- 
ever, did not exclude a most devoted love 
for my subjects, my Popolo. 

But there were other attractions — long 
walks which we took to the different peas- 
ant houses, the permission to do anything 
we liked and go anywhere we liked in the 
whole house. At my home we had to stay 
[230 3 



MY POPOLO 

in our own quarters. Indeed, my mother 
did not allow us even to stay in our bed- 
room unless we had something definite to 
do that could only be done there. But at 
Poggiopiano we could go into the cellars 
and watch the men fill the barrels with 
wine, or we could go up to the garret, 
crack nuts, and eat all we wanted. 

It would be impossible to enumerate all 
the attractions of Poggiopiano, but one of 
these, which appealed to me particularly, 
was the haunted chapel. They had a 
pretty chapel that was in disuse then, and 
which popular tradition said was haunted 
by an old priest. 

Of course, we did boast of one or two 
ghosts of our own at the villa at Leghorn, 
but they were all rationally explained 
away, and we were not expected to believe 
in them. The children of Poggiopiano, 
however, were really afraid of their ghost, 
and thus endowed it with a charm of real- 

[231 ] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

ity that my own slighted home ghosts 
lacked. 

The chapel was built next to the villa, 
so that the facades of both stood in line, 
and the two buildings were connected in- 
ternally by long, narrow corridors. An 
old priest had owned the place many 
years ago, and it was his ghost that 
haunted the chapel. A long room, for- 
merly the vestry, had been turned into a 
nursery. A small room next to it was 
used as a dressing-room, and had a door 
that opened into the dark corridor which 
led to the wooden choir of the chapel. 

To make a slight digression here: we 
have in my family a reputation for bra- 
very. I think that we live up to it naturally 
and without effort, but I also think that for 
the sake of living up to this reputation we 
have often done things in sheer bravado 
that we otherwise would have left undone. 
C232] 



MY POPOLO 

To use an expressive American colloquial- 
ism, we never took a dare. 

As soon as I found out that there was a 
ghost at Poggiopiano, and that the little 
ones were afraid of it, it became me to 
show that, as a true Cipriani, I did not 
know the meaning of fear. In order to 
show off my hereditary courage, I threat- 
ened at once to throw open the door of the 
dressing-room and walk into the chapel. 
This was fun in itself, for Luisina cried, 
Baby and Paola caught hold of my feet 
and held me fast, and I felt very brave 
over it all. 

But the haunted chapel had a genuine 
attraction for me. Some time passed. 
We had enjoyed talking ourselves into the 
belief that there was a ghost around, 
separated from the nursery only by the 
long dark corridor that led to the upper 
choir. The children of Poggiopiano en- 
C233 3 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

joyed talking about the ghost far better 
than having any immediate personal re- 
lation with it. But that was not the case 
with me. I was anxious to see whether 
there was a ghost, and anxious to show 
my superior courage in not being afraid to 
see it. 

Providence helped me, for I was al- 
lowed to spend Christmas and the New 
Year at Poggiopiano. It was then that I 
made the rash boast that on New Year's 
eve at midnight I should go all alone to 
the haunted chapel. The details of the 
enterprise I planned with some ingenuity. 
On New Year's eve they sent us children 
to bed about eleven, two hours later than 
usual. We did go to bed, since we were 
told to do so, but we were not told not to 
get up again, and so we compromised with 
our consciences and managed to undress, 
to lie down in bed, and to dress again be- 
fore midnight. It was I who insisted upon 
[234] 



MY POPOLO 

the details, telling the children I should 
never allow them to disobey. 

Our elders were laughing and talking 
down-stairs, and it was merely a dramatic 
instinct that made us glide around bare- 
footed and on tiptoe, and whisper cau- 
tiously. The children were all a little 
scared. They were not, like myself, en- 
dowed with a far-known, hereditary cour- 
age, nor had they been brought up with a 
fine and consistent scorn of the super- 
natural. 

We tiptoed carefully through the nur- 
sery, and closed the door of the little ones' 
dressing-room. Then we lighted the can- 
dles we had brought with us, and opened 
the door that led into the dark corridor. 
As midnight struck, I walked in all alone. 

My heart was beating a little ; my candle 

blinded me, though I tried to shield it with 

my hand; besides, the door open at one 

end caused a draft, and the unsteady, 

[235 ] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

rambling flame conjured up curious shad- 
ows all around me, weird, moving circles 
that made me afraid to step on the floor. 
The cobwebs caught in my hair and in my 
eyelashes, and I could not brush them 
away, for I was using both hands to hold 
and shield the candle from the draft that 
might otherwise have put it out. My bare 
feet were chilled by the damp cold of the 
stone pavement, and I regretted having in- 
sisted that shoes and stockings were not 
permissible on a midnight ghost chase. 
Perfect silence fell around me, and even 
the sound of my own steps would have 
seemed a comfort. I wanted to turn 
around and see if the children were still in 
the dressing-room, but I was ashamed to 
do so. Finally I reached the choir. 

"Now, I can go back," I thought, giving 
a sigh of relief, but my conscience com- 
pelled me to walk to the very middle of 
the chapel. 

C236] 



MY POPOLO 

Then I knocked my foot against one of 
the benches, and bending down quickly to 
touch the bruised spot, I dropped my can- 
dle, which left me in the dark. 

Suddenly a winged monster flew 
against me and almost knocked me over. 
I tried to call, but my voice failed me. Un- 
consciously I put out my hand for the 
candle, and found it on the bench before 
me. I grasped it, though it was of no use. 
Then I turned and tremblingly groped my 
way back. 

Soon I felt the stone pavement under 
my feet, and knew that I was in the cor- 
ridor. I took a long breath and felt safe. 
Then I heard the fluttering of the wings 
again, and a weird, hooting sound echoing 
through the vaulted ceiling of the chapel. 

I tried to run, but my knees were so 
weak that in spite of myself my retreat re- 
mained dignified. Finally, to my inex- 
pressible relief, I saw that the door which 
[237] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

opened into the dressing-room had been 
left ajar, and that in the shaft of light I 
could see the children's faces. Slowly, 
painfully, for my foot was badly bruised, 
I reached safety. 

"Quick, quick, or we shall all be 
caught," said Giulia. "They are coming 
up now." 

"How pale you look," said Daria. 

"I have hurt my foot," I said, "but it 
does not amount to much." 

"You are awfully brave for a girl," said 
Pietro. "Why the girls here waiting for 
you were more afraid than you were." 

I did not answer, but quickly withdrew 
to my room. 

The next morning the children, who be- 
longed to the happy tribe of the unscolded, 
told their mother all about it before I went 
down to breakfast. When I came down 
my sense of honor compelled me to con- 
fess that there was a ghost, and that I had 
[238] 



MY POPOLO 

been much frightened. My faithful Po- 
polo were readier to believe in the ghost 
than in my fear. 

Their mother undertook to investigate 
the chapel with us in broad daylight. We 
all went in together, and found that I had 
walked into the nest of a big white owl. 

My exploits as a ghost-hunter only 
served to confirm the children's belief that 
nobody could be braver than I was. They 
exaggerated and even attributed to me 
qualities that I did not have. Yet their 
confidence in me was deserved, for I took 
my position as Capopopolo (Englished: 
"Leader of the People") very seriously, 
and tried to live up conscientiously to all 
that the children believed me to be. 

This conscientiousness is now most 
amusing for us to look back upon. Giulia, 
the oldest of my Popolo, claims that now- 
adays little girls never are as serious as 
she and I were. I do not know if this is 
C2393 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

true, but I do think that we showed ex- 
ceptional earnestness and eagerness in 
doing what was best, without being held 
to it by their mother, who was most 
lenient. 

I provided reading matter for them. At 
my home we had a great number of chil- 
dren's books in various languages. More- 
over, I made a careful choice among the 
novels which I thought it advisable to let 
them read. In the case of novels that I 
thought entertaining, but not altogether 
suitable, I would, read selections to them 
aloud, but would not allow them to get 
hold of the book. 

One of the books which they got to 
know in this fashion was Ouida's "Under 
Two Flags." When the omissions I had 
made were hard to explain, I would simply 
improvise. Young though I was I did not 
approve of Ouida for children. 

The children remembered "Under Two 



MY POPOLO 

Flags" for a long time, and Giulia tells me 
that she only got hold of an unexpurgated 
version of it after she was married. The 
same I did with some of the French books 
I had been allowed to read myself, as 
"Le Morne au Diable" by Sue, which 
contains some most exciting passages. I 
may say that my methods of expurgation 
consisted, to a great extent, in cutting out 
anything pertaining to love-making. I had 
been surfeited with love-sick literature 
myself, and I thought that novels might 
turn children's heads and were not good 
for them. 

The willingness with which the children 
allowed me to keep the books from them, 
and read only what I thought best, illus- 
trates our relations. 

The influence for good that I tried to 

exert on my Popolo did not end here. I 

insisted upon improving amusements, and 

I insisted upon maintaining control of the 

n2413 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

play hours even when I was not with 
them. 

One of my ideas was to spend the morn- 
ings in vacation writing stories. We would 
take a volume of the Tauchnitz Edition, 
copy a list of titles from the back, writing 
each title on a separate folded paper, and 
shake them up together in a basket. Then 
we would draw, each of us three titles. On 
one of these titles we had to write a story. 
This for English days; that is, when I al- 
lowed them to write in English. My Po- 
polo had once had English governesses, 
though they, too, had lately been turned 
over to Germans, and we usually talked, 
and always wrote, to each other in Eng- 
lish. If, however, a story had to be written 
in Italian, then we ourselves originated the 
titles. It was only later that we wrote 
stories even in German and French. 
French particularly was a language my 
Popolo did not enjoy. 

[242] 



MY POPOLO 

When I was away from them I insisted 
that this amusement — it was an amuse- 
ment for me — should be kept up. We got 
copy-books, and by turns wrote composi- 
tions in them, first English, then Italian, 
then French, then German. We each 
wrote one story a month. I have one of 
these copy-books before me now, and I 
wish I might quote from it. If children in 
America could use the languages they 
study (but do not learn) with such ease, 
they would derive much pleasure and 
much profit from it. 

Even the children of Poggiopiano pre- 
ferred English to French or German. 
They spoke it with ease, though not quite 
as correctly as we did, because they had 
not had an English governess for some 
time, they did not have as many books as 
we did, and their mother did not speak 
English. But this very year Daria won a 
prize for a composition sent to "Little 

[243 3 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

Folks" in England, and Paola wrote a 
jingle which illustrates the facility with 
which the Italian people assimilate a for- 
eign tongue. The jingle runs: 

"With much pleasure and satisfaction, 
I 'm the daughter of Mrs. Jackson. 
If you love me, 
Put your head above me, 
For with pleasure and satisfaction, 
I 'm the daughter of Mrs. Jackson. 

Call me Margaret, call me Jenny, 
Still for that I care no penny, 
For with pleasure and satisfaction, 
I'm the daughter of Mrs. Jackson." 

Little Paola, who was then not more than 
nine, merely did what the Italian minor 
poets of the twelfth and thirteenth cen- 
turies have done before her, she made a 
foreign tongue completely her own. 

The days I spent at Poggiopiano are 
among the calmest and happiest of my 
life. I go back there often, and for me the 
place has never lost its charm. 

[244] 



XIV 

OTHER PLAYMATES 



XIV 

OTHER PLAYMATES 

WE had other playmates, but, 
with one exception, none as 
dear and near as the chil- 
dren of Poggiopiano. 

The one exception was a Piedmontese 
child, a little older than myself, who was 
my particular friend. Her father was an 
officer in the army, and our friendship be- 
gan one winter at Pisa, when her father 
was stationed there. My childish recol- 
lections of her are closely associated with 
flowers, and with white cats. Indeed, it 
was she who gave us the white cat that got 
Alick into trouble. Her mother was pas- 
sionately fond of flowers, and Fede's 
house was always full of them. 

What also made a vivid impression on 
1:2473 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

me was that Fede's mother was a very 
pretty woman, an English woman with 
golden hair, who was wont to wear a close- 
fitting dark green riding-habit. She filled 
my expectations as to what a woman on 
horseback ought to look like — in and out 
of books. In my mind I contrasted her 
tailor-made appearance with the flowing 
veils and the tumbled locks of the heroines 
in the Gartenlaube. Needless to say that 
I preferred the English to what I consid- 
ered the German style. 

We were living in a rented apartment in 
town that season, not in our own villa at 
the Piagge. Fede was allowed to go out 
walking with me, and on our walks we 
would invariably go to the villa and pick 
flowers. We would come back with our 
arms full of tea-roses, for which Fede's 
mother always gladly found a place. But 
sometimes we would wait for her to pass 
the villa on horseback, and then it was our 
E248] 



OTHER PLAYMATES 

greatest delight to bombard her with blos- 
soms as she went by. Do you wonder 
that she is associated with flowers in my 
mind? 

We had other playmates who were in- 
teresting, but of whom I never grew fond. 
They belonged to the same period, that 
same winter at Pisa which stands out for 
me more than any other, because I was 
quite an important person in the house. 
Baby and Lucy had died, Matthew was at 
the naval academy, Totty was at school in 
Germany, and only Alick, myself and 
Ritchie were left at home. 

My mother invited three English chil- 
dren to share our lessons. 

They were naughty, very naughty chil- 
dren. Now we were naughty ourselves 
occasionally, but it was not premeditated 
naughtiness. We did not consciously and 
purposely plan to do what was wrong. 

I think that I really had an unlimited 
£249] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

capacity for mischief, though it generally 
was not allowed to come out. On two 
occasions when I was with these English 
children I realized that under proper cir- 
cumstances I could not only have equaled 
them, but excelled them, in mischief. 

We had an Italian teacher at this time 
who would give us the most unheard-of 
subjects for compositions. One day she 
assigned us an essay with the title "Meth- 
ods in Education," and whose outline, 
which we were expected to elaborate, ran 
as follows : 

"A mother goes out walking with her 
little daughter, and the child notices that 
the country road is all covered with dimin- 
utive frogs. 'Mama,' says the child, 'did 
the frogs rain from Heaven?' Elaborate 
the answer of the mother, making her ex- 
plain with sternness, reproving the child, 
or making her explain with kindness and 
condescension, that the frogs did not rain 
H250 J 



OTHER PLAYMATES 

from Heaven, but had come out of the 
ditches on account of the recent rain." 

The six of us had to write this composi- 
tion — the oldest was not yet twelve, and 
the youngest was eight. 

It was I who suggested elaborating the 
mother's method by making her use the 
strongest language we knew of in some 
essay, and the most gushing, sentimental 
language in the other. Now, any normal 
Tuscan child, consciously or unconsci- 
ously knows an absolutely appalling num- 
ber of cuss words, for the Tuscan people 
rank as the most voluble and elaborate 
swearers in the world. You will hear your 
cabman swearing at his horse, your gar- 
dener swearing at a cabbage, a passer-by 
swearing at the weather, the government, 
or even nothing at all, and always with an 
infinite variety of words. You soon learn 
the system. First of all you can take a 
number of saints' names, and vary your 

[251 ] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

swearing by connecting them with the 
names of different animals, principally a 
pig and a dog, or you can elaborate your 
list by bringing in relatives, each name of 
a relative being accompanied with a curse. 
Besides, there is a fleeting fashion in 
swearing, which brings wondrous expres- 
sions upon the Tuscans' lips. One of 
these that raged the winter our essay was 
written was: "God in Heaven with no 
clothes on and his hands in his pockets." 
You see that when you resort to this kind 
of thing, variety becomes infinite. 

Now, we were strictly forbidden to use 
any words that were not correct, but they 
could not prevent our hearing them. 

I told Alick my plan, and he, being older, 
and having more to do with the men, 
knew, of course, twenty times as many 
bad words as I did. We duly elaborated 
the mother's speech, and after having de- 
scribed the mother, the child, and the walk 
C252] 



OTHER PLAYMATES 

they took, having stated that they saw a 
number of frogs, we let the child ask the 
question: "Did the frogs rain from 
Heaven?" Then the mother answered 
with a full page of consecutive swear 
words. This we remarked was a stern way 
of bringing up children. 

This style of essay was adopted only by 
us older children. Ritchie, and Ethel, the 
youngest of our English friends, had to 
pay the price of youth, and were not al- 
lowed to use one single bad word. We 
compelled them to make an elaborate list 
of such terms as little darling, dearest 
love, blessed love, golden heart, adored 
angel; in fact, anything we could glean 
from German and Italian combined. 

The result need hardly be mentioned. 
We wicked ones were summarily dealt 
with. Alick and I could not walk straight 
for a couple of days. But Ethel and 
Ritchie, who had cried when we had not 
[253;] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

allowed them to use bad words, were taken 
out driving, and to the open-air theater to 
see Pulcinella. And the wretched little 
things never thanked us. 

Our sentimental Fraeulein Helene was 
with us at this time, and her love affairs 
were progressing finely, especially on 
Tuesdays, for on Tuesdays my mother 
used to go to Leghorn to see her relatives, 
and we had dancing-lessons. Then Fraeu- 
lein Helene would converse with her lover, 
and the dancing-master would be left at 
our mercy. 

He was a funny, nervous little man, 
who had no idea of discipline, and who 
would fly into a temper at any mistake we 
made. The English children, of course, 
shared these lessons with us, and their 
naughtiness knew no bounds. They went 
farther than we ever dared to go. 

They would close the shutters of the 
[254 ] 



OTHER PLAYMATES 

large parlor in which we danced, and when 
they had thus obtained sufficient dark- 
ness, they would put half-spent matches 
in their mouths. The light would show 
through their teeth, and, dancing around, 
they pretended to be little devils risen from 
the lower regions. 

Meanwhile, the mutually absorbed 
Fraeulein and the tutor left us to our own 
devices. 

There is a limit to everything, however, 
and one day the limit was reached. The 
dancing-master declared that under no 
circumstances would he ever come to teach 
us again. He was dancing-master at the 
Royal Institute of Sant-Anna. He was 
no common low-born person, and we 
might just as well know it. He taught, 
and had always taught in all the aristo- 
cratic families at Pisa, and never had he 
seen children behave as we did. (I thor- 
[255] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

oughly believe this!) He would tell our 
mother about it, and he would never, never 
teach us again. 

The three English children did not care. 
Their punishment never amounted to any- 
thing. But we knew that it would go hard 
with us if .any account of our misdemean- 
ors reached our parents. I was the spokes- 
man. 

"Professor," I said, "you surely would 
not tell our father and mother about this. 
You like children to be gay." 

"No," he replied, "I do not like chil- 
dren to be gay when they behave as you 
do. I think it is a disgrace. I am going 
away and shall never teach you again." 

Then we pleaded, but our pleading was 
in vain. We had gone just a little too far. 
We could not soften him. The other chil- 
dren stood around dejected and fright- 
ened. I had a streak of real impudence in 
my make-up, and I argued just a little too 

12562 



OTHER PLAYMATES 

long. The dancing-master grew seriously 
angry at me. He pulled out his pocket- 
book, and producing a card on which his 
name was printed with many flourishes, 
this card he handed to me. 

He shouted to me dramatically: "See 
who I am. See if I am the kind of a per- 
son with whom you could allow yourself 
such naughtiness." 

My readers must allow me an abso- 
lutely necessary digression. Dueling was 
not, and is not to-day, uncommon in Italy. 
I have stated that my family had a reputa- 
tion for bravery. This reputation involved 
stories of numerous duels wrongly attrib- 
uted to my father and my uncle, and of 
which rumors had reached the schoolroom. 
Even the little story in which "Danke 
sehr," was misunderstood for "Donkey, 
Sir," and led to an encounter on the field 
of honor, shows how early we were famil- 
iar with the idea of dueling. In fact, 
[257] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

we knew more than children generally 
do about it. We should, for instance, 
never have said that a party to a 
duel won or lost, a common mistake even 
for Italians. Now, we had an old French 
humorous magazine, in which the follow- 
ing illustrated joke, which my father had 
explained to me, was to be found: The 
sketch represented a theater, and two men, 
who had risen from their seats, were evi- 
dently having an argument. Each held a 
card in his hand. Below this was written : 



"Monsieur, this is my card." 
"Monsieur, this is mine." 

These gentlemen had exchanged the cards of 
their tailors. 



My father had explained this joke to 
me, and that is how, though so young, I 
understood that gentlemen before fighting 
a duel exchange cards, and then send 
each other their seconds. To return to 
my story : 

[258] 



OTHER PLAYMATES 

When the dancing-master handed me 
his card, I accepted it, and replied with 
great dignity: "Sir, I have no card to re- 
turn, but you know my name. I cannot 
fight, but you will find my father always 
ready to fight a duel for me. We shall 
send you our seconds." 

This took the poor little man's breath 
away. I suppose that the mere thought of 
fighting a duel froze the blood in his veins, 
not to mention fighting a duel with my 
father. 

Tremblingly he answered: "Why, what 
do you mean? I don't want to fight a 
duel." 

I noticed quickly enough that he was 
frightened, and I took an impish advan- 
tage of the situation. "If you did not 
want to fight a duel, why did you insult 
me by offering me your card ? Gentlemen 
only give their cards when they want to 
fight. Papa says so. (Which was de- 
cidedly stretching my father's statement.) 
C259] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

Papa will be glad to fight you. He is n't 
afraid. He does n't care about one duel 
more or less. He likes it!" Which was 
doubly absurd, as my father's last duel 
had been fought long before I was born. 

But the dancing-master did not realize 
this. He first protested, then apologized, 
and finally abjectly begged for mercy: 
"Signorina Lisi, you know that I did not 
mean to insult you. You would not cause 
the death of a poor man? In all my life 
I have never held a sword in my hand." 

Then Alick put in a word: "Papa would 
not mind fighting with pistols. All you Ve 
got to do now is to find seconds." 

The man actually trembled. He did 
not know my father personally at all, and 
he did not realize that he was too cour- 
teous and too gentle to allow our taking 
advantage of any one's timidity in this 
way. I wonder sometimes if Papa, who 
has, as I have said, little sense of humor, 
[260 3 



OTHER PLAYMATES 

would have seen anything funny in the 
terror of the poor little dancing-master be- 
cause he had involuntarily challenged me 
to a duel. 

Finally we compromised. "The Pro- 
fessor of Dancing at the Royal Institute 
of Sant-Anna" did not tell how naughty 
we had been ; we promised to behave bet- 
ter, and kept our promise ; and we did not 
tell our father to fight a duel for me. 

Meanwhile, Fraeulein and the tutor 
were blissfully progressing in their love 
affairs. 



C261] 



XV 

THE END 



F 



XV 

THE END 

"> ATE has taken me away from my 
own country, and has robbed me 
of all that seemed rightfully mine 
by inheritance, but nothing can rob me of 
the reminiscences of my childhood, and 
nothing in life is dearer to me. 

I find others who scarcely remember 
back of their ninth and tenth years. Life 
for them begins then. With me it is differ- 
ent. The sorrows and joys that have come 
since have not influenced my life as deeply 
as those of my childhood and my girl- 
hood. 

It was not all happiness. Death came. 
First Baby and Lucy died, the poor little 
victims of diphtheria. Next we lost Alick, 

C2653 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

the greatest sorrow I have known. The 
loss of our fortune brought with it anx- 
iety and trouble for all, and finally led, 
when I was a mere girl, to the breaking-up 
of the family and voluntary exile for two 
of us. 

We might have been happier if we had 
been brought up a little less strictly, if our 
personal inclinations, our personal desires 
had not always been pitilessly sacrificed to 
what was considered for the best intel- 
lectually. But these trials were not with- 
out great compensation. 

We were not prepared for happiness, 
but we were prepared to go through life 
with courage, self-control, an uncom- 
promising sense of honor and justice, and, 
I think I may claim, unselfishness. We 
learned that duties in life always out- 
weigh privileges, and that personal satis- 
faction is of small account. Last but not 
least, we learned how to work and how to 
[266] 



THE END 

study. Our instructors, by stern rule and 
individual care, did for us what the Amer- 
ican public school teachers in the crowded 
class-room can never do, and this has 
stood us in good stead. 

Nor would I have any one think that I 
judge our foreign teachers too harshly. 
The mistakes they made were often un- 
avoidable. They generally were young. 
They always were strangers in the coun- 
try, and consequently knew nothing of 
our customs and those intimate character- 
istics which make up the difference of race. 
In our own family there were interesting 
and curious peculiarities due to the his- 
torical environment cumulative through 
many centuries, and the mingling of Ita- 
lian, Corsican and German blood, which 
made us in some ways different from other 
children, and consequently, harder to un- 
derstand. The religious problem in itself 
was more than inexperienced young 
C267] 



A TUSCAN CHILDHOOD 

women, generally under twenty-three 
years of age, could be expected to solve. 

Yet even their mistakes were, thank 
Heaven, not without good effects. The 
unreasonable sternness which I have often 
met with as a child, has later in many 
cases made me more indulgent toward 
others, for I remembered only too keenly 
what I had suffered in similar circum- 
stances myself. And last but not least, I 
owe to the surfeit of German novels my 
keen appreciation of sane English litera- 
ture. I could never have appreciated 
Thackeray as I did if I had not been pre- 
pared for reading him by the Garten- 
laube; and my intense enjoyment of Mark 
Twain is, I am sure, due to the same 
reaction. 

And whatever the unnecessary hard- 
ships, whatever the unnecessary trials of 
our childhood may have been, they are 
fully compensated by the strong love they 
[2681] 



THE END 

fostered between us brothers and sisters, 
a love upon which death has set the seal 
that bars all change. Through this bond 
of our childhood we remain seven, though 
"some of us in the churchyard lie" and the 
rest are separated by lands and seas. 



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